


Sins of the Chosen

by lilysmiles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Dark Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter Leaves the Wizarding World, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Multi, Reincarnated Harry Potter, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death, Wizarding World Bashing (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 69
Words: 40,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilysmiles/pseuds/lilysmiles
Summary: Could an unloved and beaten down orphan become the ultimate sacrifice? Really? What if he is selfish and wants to live? What would happen if a little boy abandons his destiny? Could he truly conquer Fate or would one thread of a foretold future be exchanged for another, much more sinister path?Beware Death’s Champion. For when he grows wings, he will fly free.Or of how Harry abandoned the sinking ship that was magical Britain.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood/Harry Potter, Magnus Bane/Harry Potter
Comments: 207
Kudos: 746





	1. Part 1: Prologue & The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. LOL
> 
> Just a note, the Shadowhunter world will be very AU, but I will mostly be using the book content. The movie and the TV series contributions are insignificant.

Prologue

It was bright. 

The beginning of his next adventure could ironically be described by a cliché ‘and he stepped into the light’…  
It was amusing that all his questionable life choices accumulated to this. 

There was no satisfaction from a job well-done, a life well-lived with no regrets.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Although he was unsatisfied, the outcome achieved was still something to be proud of. He could genuinely say that that his book was now closed. He paid his debts and truly hoped that no one was left wanting. 

Although the life of Harry Potter was officially over, he could proudly state that he had left the field as a victor. He left his life well and truly undefeated. His murderers just didn’t know it yet.

After all, there were things much more terrible than death.

Part 1

Chapter 1. The Beginning  
Little Harry didn’t remember a time before the Dursleys. However, he always had vivid dreams. He recalled riding animals, long red hair, soothing lullabies, strange words and flashes of light. He always associated those dreams with before. The Dursleys came after.

Harry always knew he wasn’t normal. Normal people didn’t talk to spiders and snakes. Normal people slept in bedrooms, not cupboards. Normal people prayed for miracles, not made them happen. But Harry wasn’t normal. Harry was something else. He was a freak.

Perhaps Harry could have been different. If he had been raised with love and affection, maybe he would have been a sweet, kind child. Maybe he could have been more inclined to work towards a Greater Good. But then that would have been a very different Harry.

The first emotion Harry could recall was an all – consuming, bitter feeling of envy. Dudley, who was an overweight, rude boy that no honest person could call bright was showered with love and affection that Harry could only dream of. And early on, while nursing his bruises in a dusty cupboard, Harry promised himself, that one day everything would change, that he would have those who would love him beyond reason for him to reap the benefits.

Harry would not admit to anyone except to himself that he was at heart a glutton. While he would never want to become anything like his fat cousin, Harry found true ecstasy during the nights, when he could raise something within himself that was usually dormant during the day. This precious something would quietly unlock the door of his cupboard and lead him to the fridge overflowing with delicious treats that he would carefully feast on, always making sure that any change was not noticeable. The first time Harry carefully savored a tiny piece of Dudley’s forbidden birthday cake he promised himself that one day, hopefully one day soon he would feast to his heart’s content and never go hungry again.

Another true sin he was guilty of, as Harry later learnt was greed. Harry got very little, so he wanted to get the best of his circumstances. Eventually, what had initially begun as innocent pocketing of some of Dudley’s old crayons and broken tin soldiers escalated into a habit of hoarding. 

Harry’s guiltiest pleasure was probably sloth. Whenever his aunt and uncle weren’t looking, he would abandon his task and relax. He had learnt at a young age that any work assigned was of no benefit to him, with only more pilled onto him when previous errands were complete. Harry found little motivation to strive to do anything that held no significance to him.

When Harry began school, he brought back the best report card of his year. He felt proud for his very first true achievement. However, his so-called family did not hold the same sentiment. After getting a ruthless beating for daring to out-shine their precious Dudders, Harry felt the long withheld fury rise inside him and promised that one day, they will know his wrath. 

Harry was always a beautiful child. He received hungry looks even when dressed in rags. From an early age he learnt the concept of lust and more importantly, to manipulate adults using the elusive feeling. This was the one sin Harry never liked to associate with himself, but he promised himself that one day it would make him feel powerful.

For Harry Potter there was no was no good greater than his own.

And perhaps that was the moment the bright eyed toddler everyone remembered finally died, somewhere along the way to another’s thirst for power. But that someone forgot that what comes up, must come down, and the higher you climb the harder you fall. For now, it was all only a matter of time.


	2. Innocence is dead

Chapter 2. Innocence is dead

When he was introduced to the wizarding world, Harry was shocked such a thing existed. Shocked that he was part of something greater than himself. That he actually seemed to actually belong somewhere, where he would not be a considered a freak, would finally be normal. Later, it was only this shock with which Harry could explain letting down his guard. 

Harry slowly came back to his senses after his second year. To say that he was horrified was an understatement. He could recall his plans before he took the first bite of the redhead’s sandwiches on the train, to get into Hufflepuff in order to blend into the background, making any association between himself and a ‘savior’ ridiculous. 

Somehow, he ended up in the spotlight of Gryffindor, with friends in people that he would never willingly associate himself with. His so-called best friend was a thinner version of Dudley. A bully who placed stigmas onto children of different houses. The so-called ‘smartest witch of her generation’ was a miniature Petunia Dursley with her desire to make everyone around her follow her expectations, to appear normal, to belong, even at the expense of one’s spirit and character. 

He could not understand how he could risk his life twice in two years. While his first year could be attributed to general stupidity, in second year he had no such excuse. He barely knew the girl. And even in his drugged haze he found her a creepy stalker. In his right mind, he would never face a BASILISK! 

It took Harry very little time to understand that he was under the effect of potions. He realized that the deceptively welcoming world was not his world. It was a mousetrap, set for a special type of mouse, to keep it compliant and ignorant until it was no longer of any use. He truly had no family, no friends. No one cared about him except for the creepy headmaster that behaved like a stereotypical pedophile and definitely had plans for him. Plans that definitely didn’t end with a ‘and Harry lived Happily Ever After’. For this understanding, Harry was forever grateful for the Basilisk’s bite. Truly such sinful animals that serpents were portrayed to be, were much more honest in their actions than any human.


	3. Tom and Jerry, form Jerry’s point of view

Chapter 3. Tom and Jerry, form Jerry’s point of view

When the summer holidays came, Harry was busy. He carefully stole from his so-called family in order to visit Diagon Alley in disguise. It was a wonder how no one could recognize him after some toner onto his scar, a wig, some contacts and some female clothes. 

And so, a young blond girl came and went to and from Diagon Alley completely unnoticed. Only shocking the goblins in the process. Her questionable purchases included a maximum capacity moleskin pouch she tied around her ankle, some second hand books of questionable content from Nocturne Alley, multiple amulets for protection against questionable substances and a few dozens bezoars due to her reawakened paranoia. She also managed to pick the pockets on an elderly witch, taking off with her wand that most definitely did not have the trace on it.

Harry found that the easiest way to study was leaving at dawn in order to read, study the art of occluding his mind and practice in abandoned buildings. He decided to go along with Dumbledore’s plans for the time being, tolerating his so-called friends and making back-up plans of his own.

That year he was truly disillusioned in regards to his parents and their friends, leaving him with nothing to fight for in the wizarding world. He came to the understanding that instead of putting his well-being first, his parents decided to fight in a war instead of leaving the country. One of their friends was a traitor. Another used the most pathetic excuses to avoid their son, never having checked on him. And the last only escaped from prison for revenge, forsaking his obligations to Harry.

In his fourth year, Harry was not surprised by the turn of events. He was truly glad to be alienated from his ‘friends’ and the rest of the school cohort. He used his unsupervised time studying in the newly found Room of Requirement. All interesting texts were diligently copied and stored away. It was in fourth year, that he found his passion for ritual magics and necromancy.

In fifth year Harry found a love for truly dark potions as they were the only thing that could help with permanent aliments and to an extent, wounds from dark artifacts. Although he had rid himself of scars from the Blood Quill, he decided to wait to correct his vision and his most noticeable scar at a time when it would not draw attention.  
In his sixth year Harry had to pretend to mourn Sirius, although the man was virtually a stranger. 

Dumbledore’s ‘talks’ were getting creepier, especially when Harry realized that that the old goat was hinting that he was the seventh Hocrux. Dumbledore was basically planning his death. This led to a series of get-away plans being formed while carefully dodging love potions from a creepy red head. He most definitely would not conveniently die leaving a widow crying crocodile tears over his ‘accidental’ demise, with only the keys to his vaults as consolation. An ugly Madame Zabini wannabe whose entire family was plagued with erotic dreams about his inheritance was most definitely not his choice of a life-partner. 

As he didn’t plan to stay for seventh year anyway, so Dumbledore’s death was very fortunate. Having disarmed Draco Malfoy, Harry escaped Hogwarts.

Understanding that running straight away would alert the Order. Harry emptied all is vaults after leaving the Dursleys, keeping his inheritance and the Black library books in his moleskin pouch. Going along with the ridiculous ‘seven Harrys’ get away plan, he received a snitch in accordance to Dumbledore’s will. He decided to leave the wizarding world for good. 

Although they didn’t know it yet, the commotion after the Weasley wedding was the last the wizarding world had seen hide or hair of Harry Potter for many years. And truly, if British wizards had history teachers worth any good or any ounce of logic they have left the issue be. 

They wouldn’t have searched for him. They would have let their once labelled savior disappear. Had they asked those truly favored by Fate such as the Lovegoods and not some charlatan of a seer, they would have had their answer. For they were seeking to use and control a child descended from those who were known by different names faded into obscurity and tales told in hushed whispers. Death’s Lovers. Death’s Children. Death’s Descendants. Death’s Champions. Death’s Favored. Necromancers. 

Those who crossed the Peverells found only one thing. But the foolish British wizards trapped in their selfish desires and ambitions didn’t know any better, even if they did, their disproportional hate for anything deemed Dark and their overinflated egos would never deter them. 

And so many years later they found him. They found Harry Potter. The last Peverell. But in doing so they triggered something that could never be undone.


	4. Requiem for Regrets

Chapter 4. Requiem for Regrets

Inside a dark room stood a single candle. It didn’t have the capability to chase away the darkness. Instead, it created long, flickering shadows that created an even creepier atmosphere. Although nothing could clearly be seen, one of the armchairs had an occupant. It wasn’t a monster, not even a vampire, despite his gaunt appearance, the shadows flickering around him and popular opinion. This man was once known as Harry Potter.

Suddenly, there was a loud creak on a window opening. A large crow slipped into the room, bringing with itself a piece of parchment.   
“Oh...”

Harry breathed out something that could be confused for disappointment, but was in essence a sigh of relief.  
“I guess I should be surprised Raven. I really should be… But it’s been so long since I have underestimated the true depravities of human nature…”

He once again glanced at the parchment.  
“This is it I guess. Almost everything is ready. Nothing of value is left.”

Harry walked towards one of the walls, removing one of the paintings. Behind it lay a dark case.   
“This is goodbye. Fly Raven. From now on you are free.”

The bird took one last look at the one who for many years was a dear friend and felt the familiar bond snap. With one last regret-filled glance, the bird slipped out the window and disappeared into the night. 

Meanwhile Harry steeled his resolve and opened the case. Within, lay a syringe filled with a tar – like substance. He knew he wouldn’t have long once he did what he had planned to do, but it would be enough. The walls of the trap were closing in around him, but the hunters didn’t yet understand that they would soon become the prey. When they did, it would be too late. 

With one last look at out the window, Harry Potter plunged the syringe into his arm.


	5. Obscurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter.

Chapter 5. Obscurity

Taking one last look at the building, Harry released a blast of Fiendfire and apparated just as the wards that concealed him for many years shattered.

He appeared in some Asian muggle city. He wasn’t really concerned with the name. Hiding in China of all places had been based on the logic that none of his past acquaintances would look too closely for his presence… America, Canada, Australia and even Singapore were most likely searched with the utmost scrutiny. How likely was it that the dumb as a rock Boy Who Lived would hide in a country where he not only wouldn’t blend in nationally but would lack any understanding of the culture and language?

True, at first it was difficult. The language was truly foreign, so was the culture... But Harry didn’t settle in China to socialize. Glamour, both muggle and magical along with minor metamorphagus abilities became his best friends when out in public. Eventually he faded into the background among the millions. 

He knew that eventually he would be found. He knew. And he prepared. Childish dreams of love family and acceptance were crushed, hidden deep beneath the cold exterior he wore as an armor. Reality was harsh that way.


	6. Immortality, Reality Check

Chapter 6. Immortality, Reality Check

Many years ago when he ran, he made the right choice. Once he settled down, he decided to check the news from Britain. At first there was panic about his disappearance, then there was anger, then supported by a suddenly resurrected Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, he was labelled dark. A budding Dark Lord, hiding in the shadows, bidding his time to plan the demise of magical Britain. The manhunt was on.

He did not understand why the headmaster needed to fake his death. Why he could not let him go. Leave him alone. Why he wanted him dead. But one thing that old man didn’t consider was that when you look into the abyss, it eventually looks back at you. When labelled dark, one eventually stops caring what others think or the consequences. What are some inhumane experiments compared to tales of drinking the blood of babies? The wizards had made their beds. They shouldn’t be surprised with the fallout. Any collateral was all on them.

Throughout the years, Harry built a hidden network within the muggle and wizarding world. The goal was information. For information is power. 

The sudden deaths of prominent purebloods, the annihilation of the Potter and Gaunt families, these events all had one source. A wizard of few principals with a lust for power beyond his ability or heritage. Nevertheless, throughout the years he wasn’t getting any younger, so once he reached his pinnacle of political power he craved immortality. The so-called Light Lord sacrificed many for his experiments. A former student for an investigation into the effects of Hocruxes, a former mentor into attempting to gain the Philosopher Stone’s secrets, a former lover betrayed for seeking the mantle of the Master of Death. 

His search did not bear fruit. Hocruxes drew the creator insane, eventually turning them into an undead Lich. The Philosopher’s Stone could only be used by its creator and did not slow aging, only extending one’s life, eventually leading to a loss of magical power as one’s entire magical reserves were used up sustaining a frail body. As for the title of the Master of Death, it was only the powers of the artifacts that prevented the legend to be considered a massive hoax.

But Dumbledore was not one to give up. He came to the conclusion that as long as any of the direct descendants of the Peverell brothers were still alive, no other could master the artifacts. Taking out the Gaunts and the Potters turned into his goal of a lifetime. And the last Potter was almost trapped.


	7. Hell is empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mini chapter. They will get bigger. Promise.

Chapter 7. Hell is empty

He stood among the busy streets, the rivers of people going about their business. They seemed so focused. Not taking any time to look around them. Not being able to enjoy the flavor of life. Just part of a force, a stream. Like a massive army of ants going about their business. It looked like nothing could interrupt their set routine. 

Harry started walking.

He walked thru the busy streets and the crowded alleyways. The markets and food stalls. The offices and slums. None gave him any notice.   
Stepping inside an abandoned building, he stopped. 

Throwing out his arm, he turned. There was a crash and a groan. One of his would-be attackers tried to get up using the wall he so ‘gracefully’ hit. The other was a blood splatter that would not be getting up ever again. One silent spell from Harry and the survivor went still.

Nine intercepted apparations and blood splatters later, he shook his head. The trap was most definitely set, but the hunters weren’t there yet. The shark had smelt blood but these small fish were not was it was after, just some inconvenient assassins that were hired to lure him in, before the fishermen lifted the net. But what those ignorant humans chose to overlook was that even a cornered rat can be viscous. And this shark was no rat. It was a predator of a different caliber than those seen today. None would get away unscathed. They just didn’t know it yet.


	8. All the devils are here

Chapter 8. All the devils are here

Harry didn’t need to look around to know they were there. Watching. Waiting. For him to relax. To let down his guard. They truly didn’t expect any unpleasant surprises from him beyond the capabilities of a mediocre dark wizard. Who was he? A drop out who never finished school. He never sat for his NEWTs, never had a magical profession, didn’t have much battle experience beyond short skirmishes many years ago. Even with him taking the Black library, how dangerous could he be? Sirius was a true pure-blood Black and he died and bled just like everybody else.

But regardless of his seeming weakness, they would still exert caution. Someone to whom he had a seemingly emotional attachment was due to make a move first. To manipulate, to attempt to coerce his cooperation. The spider would watch from the shadows, saving its gloating for when he was emotionally destroyed, when he was trapped in the web with no escape. For when they both knew it. And he was right. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared. Or that the spider wasn’t spinning its webs in the den of a venomous snake to whom its planning was the size of a mouthful. Just one bite. One last bite. But because the last bite is all he has, he has to make it count.

In that moment, the shadows moved. 

Harry could say he wasn’t surprised, but he was. He didn’t know the betrayal ran that deep. He truly thought that the one to speak to him first was going to be Hermione. Ron, for all that he was pretty much a useless and stupid waste of space was part of a large family of Dumbledore fanatics that were much more useful as a unit. If he killed Hermione, it not like anyone would cry, because although she was married into that family, in the end of the day she was just another mudblood. No one would truly miss her. But oh well, just because he was wrong on this account, doesn’t mean his reasoning was incorrect. Because it was. No one would miss this one after all. No one at all.

“Harry… How could you?’

A ragged voice ground out.

“Well hello there, Remus”


	9. The Talk

Chapter 9. The Talk

In a seemingly empty warehouse, two men stood across from each other. One was acting out the part of the concerned older relative on moral high ground. The other stood tall and proud, not looking phased by the given lecture what so ever.

“… James and Lily would be rolling over in their graves if they could see you now! How could you Harry! You became dark! You spat on their memory and went against everything we have ever stood for!”

That’s when the sound of clapping interrupted the ‘holier than thou’ speech. 

“Well done Remus! Well done! Such expression! Such emotion! I have lived all my life just to receive your emotional little speech. Just what I needed to hear! This is life-changing Remus. Totally. I really needed to receive ‘the Talk’ from the submissive bitch of the Marauder pack. The ‘let’s not get involved in anything worthwhile or take any responsibility’ Remus Lupin. I heard you were thrown out of your girlfriend’s and son’s life. But not because you are a werewolf, no. But because you were never there. You are truly pathetic”

“How could you!...”

“Oh I hit a nerve didn’t I, well I can do that quite literally, you just have to ask. Animals must be house broken and I think your ex-girlfriend might appreciate this. Crucio…”

That’s when the onlookers realized that things were not going according to plan. The dark spell from the wand of the ex-savior (not that he even needed the stick, but one must keep up appearances to seem weaker that one really is) was the last straw they all needed to confirm their beliefs. Not that they needed it anyway. To them Harry was a tarnished light symbol that has been tainted by his dark magic. The only thing that could cleanse their unfulfilled expectations was his death. Of course some would prefer for him to be married to a girl of their choosing to throw him in Azkaban later ‘cough, Weasleys, cough’ to not have the vast Potter and Black fortunes go to waste, or to dark families of the closest relation. But then Dumbledore had promised them that as the head of the Wizangemont he could easily make the goblins see reason, as truly the entire wizarding world knows that Harry Potter went missing, leaving his heartbroken fiancée, one Ginny Weasley behind and that before he went dark his dearest wish was for his fortune to go to the Weasley family. 

What Dumbledore didn’t say was that if there was a penny to be had in the Potter and Black Vaults, he would have already gotten his hands on them. But alas, that wretched boy took his entire fortune with him when he ran. One thing could be said for certain. Dumbledore was one very unhappy wizard when he found out. It wasn’t just the money that he was angry about. All the books and artifacts were gone as well. Out of his rightful grasp! When that fool James was in the Order they couldn’t get access to anything beyond his trust vault, as the idiot got himself disinherited for his stupidity, while Harry emptied everything as soon as he turned 17, when Dumbledore was pretending to be dead and couldn’t openly pressure the bank.

Dreams of the Potter fortune were now just that. Dreams.

Unless they actually manage to capture Harry. 

Hopefully that wretched boy would tell them the location after some Truth Serum. 

Because why would a dead man need money, books and priceless artifacts? When they would serve so much better in the hands of the Light.


	10. Fear the living

Chapter 10. Fear the living 

“Stupefy!”

Multiple voices echoed through the building.

None of the new arrivals were successful though. A shield flashed red and rebounded the spells to their creators. A group of figures was left standing in the open like sitting ducks.

“Pathetic. Truly. One would believe that over 20 years is sufficient to learn more than just school level spells… But then, perhaps not. They do say that Weasleys breed like rabbits. I guess practicing the act had become the mainstream profession in the family, leaving no opportunity to practice other skills. Oh well, that’s the new age of the wizarding Britain for you, the Malfoys are rich, the Blacks are crazy, the Gaunts are inbred and the Weasleys whore themselves out. I always did suspect that Wizarding Wheezes stood for something else.”

“Harry my boy, how could you speak such things of your friends? They always wished the best for you! The Weasley family always thought of you as a son. When you disappeared, they were devastated! Ginny cried herself to sleep with worry!” Dumbledore was attempting to salvage the shards of a situation that had seemed to spin out of his control.

“And the biggest circus freak is finally here! Would have thought you had gained some semblance of a fashion sense, but I figure not. The first prize for the most tasteless parody of Merlin goes to you… as always. Some things just never change.” Harry was aware that his mocking was childish, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Harry, I would had hoped that you had some light left within you and could be redeemed, but it seems as if I was very wrong. If you don’t fight us, and hand yourself over, the British wizarding community many be lenient on you during your trial…” pulling an upset and understanding face expression instead of one of gloating and greed was getting more difficult for the old man.

For a moment, the group just stood there unmoving. For a single second the Order of the Phoenix seemed to win. Seemed to break the spirit of the poor orphan boy that was never meant to be anything besides a disposable weapon and a means to an end. But they were very, very wrong.

Harry didn’t need to look any closer to recognize any of the newly arriving wizards. His so called ‘friends’ were all present, Remus, Mad Eye and Tonks were also recognizable as well as new additions from the younger generation of the Weasleys. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t waste a single tear on those unworthy of his emotions. His story was almost complete. It was time to place a punctuation mark. 

“I guess it’s all over then. Well I couldn’t say I am surprised. This is what happens when you put trust in blood traitors. But remember this, for by winning this battle, you have lost the war.” Harry seemed to pause, taking a deep breath.

The members of the Order felt momentarily relieved, believing his words to be a very ominous statement of surrender. For what kind of resignation could be offered by a dark wizard? Only one ended with a disturbing threat. But their relief lasted only so long.  
In a spray of guts, bone and blood, the wizard known as Harry Potter exploded.


	11. Dead men tell no tales....or do they?

Chapter 11. Dead men tell no tales 

Although I knew what to expect, I still felt numb. 

Some wise person once said that only those you trust can betray you. Truly, a stranger or a passing acquaintance does not have the same capability to emotionally wound you compared to the betrayal of a dear friend. While none of those that had come to gloat and beat me down but were instead left emotionally scarred for life by my self-destruction were anywhere close to the concept of friend or family, I was still somewhat affected. Mind you, if they were more than passing acquaintances from many years ago, perhaps I would have felt more that a bone chilling numbness, but that is something that I would rather not find out.

I seriously feel like one of those ancient philosophers these days with the amount of time I spend procrastinating. Really, such habits would get me in trouble one day. 

That is when I noticed that I could still feel my body. 

For a single moment, I panicked. Had they managed to successfully trap me? Had all my preparations been for naught? Then I realized that even if my plans were somewhat disrupted, nothing could stop them from unfolding. The only unfortunate factor might be my temporary captivity, which seems ridiculous as I seemed to clearly remember dying. 

Trying to get my panic under control I opened my eyes. 

It was bright.


	12. Harry the Necromancer… sort of

Chapter 12. Harry the Necromancer… sort of

Well, I could state with a 99.99% certainty that I am dead. Or at least seem to be. Although as a necromancer, or the pathetic, self-taught excuse of one I should know these kinds of things. But I guess I have ‘some’ gaps in my education.

When I fled from the British wizarding world all those many years ago, I tried to prepare for everything. Sadly, theory and reality are two very different things. There was only so much one could learn from old books, even from such a versatile collection such as the Black library. There were wizards with Masteries all around the globe. In Britain, the only ministry approved Masteries included Potions, Charms, Transfigurations and Herbology. Surprisingly Runes, Arithmancy and Battle Magic Masteries were heavily frowned upon as the first two gave a foundation to Ritualistics while Battle Magic didn’t just require the knowledge of OWL spells, but of both ‘light’ and ‘dark’ offensive and defensive magics, with the creation of a new mass destruction spell required for a Mastery. Truly, British Auror corps were laughing stock in the international magic community. 

After running from Britain, I realized that although other countries had more reasonable legislation concerning magic use and Masteries, finding a teacher was a different matter entirely. Family magics were apparently a thing. Each pureblood wizarding family was proud of containing at least one talent associated with family magics. Pureblood ancestors taught their descendants the secrets of their craft from the cradle. Masters of less known or ‘dark’ disciplines such as Chimaerology and Blood Magics only took relatives or those heavily recommended by them as students. It was a matter of keeping secrets and not breeding competition. Finding a reasonable teacher that wouldn’t rob me blind, turn me in or even take me as a student proved impossible. 

I was devastated.

Necromancy was my passion. I understood that I would amount to nothing without a descent teacher or at least literature. Unfortunately, the Black library had very little on the subject and very few books from the Peverell library made it into the Potter vaults. The Gaunts were a more senior cadet branch coincidentally they got the most of the inheritance of their extinct relatives. Anything that wasn’t gambled away or taken by the American branch of that family, ended up with Tom Riddle and I was nowhere near stupid enough as to ask him to become my mentor. 

Some would say otherwise, but I wasn’t suicidal. 

Others would say that my goal was stupid or unobtainable as the last world famous Necromancer was some weird Russian guy from the middle ages with apparently seven Hocruxes (cough, unoriginal, Riddle, cough). In the end, he looked like a skeleton and had an obsessive-compulsive disorder about his only daughter, a frog animagus, thought to be the origin of the legend of the Frog Princess. So yes, when you look at it that way, Necromancy seemed to be bad for one’s health and state of mind.

I didn’t care.

After all, I had nothing to lose.


	13. The path to greatness?

Chapter 13. The path to greatness?

I am honest. Well at least to myself. When I was hit with the realization that I was unlikely to be capable of anything beyond raising a dead dog or very dumb Inferi, I was upset. I cried OK. 

It was depressing. My life seemed to be over. 

I bought some muggle fiction (Lord of the Rings I think?), fast food and buried myself in it. It was only after I read the last tome that I realized that the main antagonist was a necromancer (flying undead dragons, duh!). It felt as if someone shone a light inside a dark, creepy mansion. My life had hope once more. 

I realized that just because there was a Statute of Secrecy in place, did not mean that muggles never knew about magic. They recall it through fairy tales, folklore and ancient muggle manuscripts! It was only a matter of finding reliable sources and backwards engineering the techniques. 

It took me many years. Thousands of books were read in order to work backwards from the few descriptions. Not everything worked, but every success was like a precious ray of sunshine for me. 

So it is official.

My name is Harry Potter.

The novice necromancer.

I am pathetic.


	14. Plans and Actions

Chapter 14. Plans and Actions

The first time I was almost caught was in New Zealand. It had been ten years since I left Britain. I did not keep in contact with any wizards. I did not know many things. I used muggle transport to get around. I permanently maintained shields to not be tracked. I thought those measures were sufficient. They were not.

Although I was caught through my own stupidity, I still had a surprise something up my sleeve. All the necromancy techniques I recreated were performed wandless. When my wand was taken, my captors made a mistake.

A fatal mistake.

Their last mistake.

They touched my skin.

And that was enough.

I sent a very amusing 5 minutes watching them decompose alive. 

Well I guess that just like most necromancers of old I didn’t dodge the bullet. That moment was when I realized that I had truly changed. Mentally. Physically. The sheeple of the wizarding world would call me dark and batshit insane. Informed and educated purebloods would call me undergoing professional deformation. 

Some of my senses were muted (smell) others were sharper than ever (developed night vision and hearing). I could comfortably sleep in a grave, hugging a corpse and instead of getting scarred for life, I would just need a shower. I was no longer sensitive to cold. I was excessively possessive, as necromancers have few joys in life, making each one more precious. I was deathly pale, had Avada-green eyes, with black nails and veins. I no longer hesitated to kill. I wasn’t scared of death. 

When I found out that I was being hunted, I prepared. 

I waited.

And many years later, I sprang the trap.


	15. Mischief Managed

Chapter 15. Mischief Managed

I didn’t know how long I stood there amongst the white empty plane and pondered on my own existence like some hormonal teenage girl. 

Officially, I was dead.

Game over.

My last surprise was post-mortem. 

I could not witness my triumph.

Sadly.

Oh how I wish to see all those faces…

Wizards would probably bring their offspring to spit on my grave for generations to come.

At that last thought, the endless white seemed to form distortions. Specks of color began gathering to form an image of a familiar scene. In front of me, swirled the image of the abandoned warehouse and the blood-drenched Order of the Phoenix. I guess being a dead necromancer does have some perks.

That’s when the sound came on. 

And I came to regret everything.

If I still had physical eardrums, I would be deaf for life (death?).

Never knew ALL the Weasley offspring inherited the matriarch’s vocal talents judging by the decibels they produced. Should have known better than to hope otherwise. 

Who am I kidding? I regret nothing!

Time to tune in to the entertainment…


	16. Popcorn? Anyone?

Chapter 16. Popcorn? Anyone?

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…

(Unknown amount of time later…)

Mad-Eye Moody was the first to come to his senses. Experience, maybe? Maybe not. With the amount of injuries he accumulated from ‘dark’ magic compared to other Aurors he seemed to either have the worst luck or the most mediocre skill set. 

“Shut your brood up Molly!” He roared.

For a moment, Molly Weasley floundered like a fish. Soon their blood-splattered state was long forgotten and the Weasley family was presenting a united front against everyone else in an out of control shouting match.   
Dumbledore just stood there. 

He seemed shocked. Perhaps because life finally handed him the winning cards and he couldn’t believe it. Or because he lost so badly, he was thinking how to abandon the sinking ship with minimal losses. But he was the only one capable of coherent thought and with enough authority to control the screaming and scrambling mass of people that made up his order of disposable but loyal chess pieces. His stupor didn’t last forever.

“QUIET!” He raised his voice for the first time in many years. Usually, his authority was sufficient. But not this time.  
“But Albus! How could they insult my family! And the boy! What of the boy? What are we to say to the public? You said so yourself that he must stand trial and be sent to Azkaban for his crimes! What now? What happens now? We don’t even have a body to present them with!” Molly Weasley screeched.

“Right now we must portkey back to Britain. Nothing can be done about the boy now that he has chosen to escape justice this way. We are all here unofficially. It is only a matter of time before the native Auror force arrives to investigate. By that time we should be elsewhere...” 

“Of course, Albus. You are right! Gather the thread everyone! Hold on tight! Fred, George, Ginny darling! Bill, Charlie go help Hermione and Ron gather the kids! Make sure to count them! Tonks! What are you looking at? You have your own set of portkeys…” The Weasley matriarch seemed to completely forget what they had just witnessed, fussing like a mother-hen on a school trip.

A few minutes later, the once crowded warehouse was once more empty.

What the Order didn’t realize until later, was that they forgot to cast a Scourgify onto themselves and the warehouse. They arrived in Britain covered in human remains. The remains of the once Saviour that was finally brought home.

And the scene faded from view.

Harry stood motionless for a moment. Then he started chuckling. Shortly his chuckles turned to full-blown laughter. Everything was unfolding well. His revenge is inevitable. He doesn’t care one bit about who is caught in the aftermath.

“Well hello Harry.”


	17. Potter luck strikes again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna be 2 updates a day as of today.

Chapter 17. Potter luck strikes again

I would have died of a heart attack had I still been alive.

Turning around, I only now noticed the speaker. His robes seemed to create animate shadows on the spotless white surface. He had aristocratic features that seemed strangely familiar. 

Those Avada-green eyes, the pale skin, that black mass of hair that seems to absorb light… Where had I seen them? That feeling of déjà vu… Oh every day in the mirror moron… How slow can you be Harry? Gryffindor really did rub off on you… Stupidity seems contagious.

“Nice to meet you. As you obviously know, I am Harry. May I presume that you are a long deceased relative of mine?” Polite and concise Harry… Is it even ok to talk about death to dead people? Well I guess I will find out… On the other hand, he can just turn around and leave. 

“Your assumption is only partially correct. Before we go any further, several issues must be addressed. You are obviously deceased through your own actions. However, you remain tethered to the plane of the plane of the living. Had your body been intact, you could have gone back. In this case however…”

“Oh this is about the necromancy! Of course this is about the necromancy… Well done Harry! With your luck everything you involve yourself in just ends in disaster!” I muttered to myself under my breath. If only I chose a less self-destructive way to do myself in, I could have gone back to live out my life. But with my wonderful luck I could be forever stuck in this white endless limbo. But then again, blowing myself up had more purpose than just making a statement and mentally scarring the Order.

“No. Necromancy is actually of little consequence in this case. Although it is highly amusing how much you succeeded in the art of necromancy without any qualified guidance. Usually, necromancers and demonologists have the highest mortality rate among the students. A self-taught novice that doesn’t get eaten by its own creations is a case of one in a billion. Congratulations. You are actually far beyond novice level. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” The man’s lips twitched with withheld amusement.

“So what happened? If it wasn’t the necromancy, than what was it?” I was seriously confused. I did many questionable things in my life so I couldn’t think of anything at the top of my head.

“Do you recall the Tale of the Three Brothers?” The man’s expression didn’t change, but Harry could tell that he was annoyed.

“Yes…” I hesitantly replied, wondering about the relevance of a fairy tale. While it did mention wizards that were likely to be necromancers, no technique descriptions were in it, so I didn’t really focus much attention on it.

“Now forget about that rubbish!” the man’s face expression didn’t change, but his brow seemed to twitch. 

“What are you trying to say?” Now I was getting seriously confused.


	18. Necromancy for dummies

Chapter 18. Necromancy for dummies

The man seemed to hesitate. His face expression didn’t give much away, but he seemed to be facing difficulties as if stating unpleasant news.

“Well Harry, you are one of the few self-taught necromancers that didn’t meddle in it for the purpose of cheating death. True necromancers have to die during or before their training and come back to life as part of their rite. They cannot, must not be scared of death.” 

“So does that mean that I wasn’t a true necromancer before? I hadn’t ever died before this. Do you mean that this was to be my rite if I still had a body?” I was confused, bordering on upset. Crashing dreams do that to you.

“No Harry. You must understand, necromancers come in two types, natural-born and taught. Taught necromancers would never be as powerful or as skilled as natural-born ones. Natural-born necromancers have an intuitive understanding and are extremely difficult to kill. By the time you started Hogwarts you already had the potential of a necromancer. An Avada Kedavra rips the soul out of one’s body, but while an ordinary wizard would die, a necromancer’s soul would just return to their body, bringing them back to life. That’s how you survived in 1981. 

By the time you left Britain, you had died and come back to life four times, including the Avada, Quirrel in 1st year, the Basilisk in you 2nd and the Dementors in your 3rd.”

He paused for a moment, taking in my shocked face expression. While his explanation was far-fetched, it made more sense than anything I had been given before. It definitely beat the “It was LOVE Harry!” nonsense.

Honestly, the ‘Power of Love’ drivel made me feel like Hogwarts was a brothel with Dumbledore being the main pedophile always calling me MY boy…

Ew.

“When you started studying necromancy, you awoke the abilities that lay dormant in your bloodline. You could have lived your entire life as an ordinary wizard and never known. But Fate chose otherwise.”

“So you mean to say that I am a fully-fledged necromancer that isn’t quite dead, but is not alive either? Does that mean that I am stuck here forever?”

“Yes and no. Had you just been a regular suicide then you would have had to take on the position of a reaper. Had you been any other necromancer, you would have other options such as overseeing the reaper departments, but that is not your case. This is when the Tale of Three Brothers comes in.”


	19. Tale of Three Brothers, a different perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So no, no relationships with Death in this one. Sorry guys.  
> By the way, I am terrible at writing emotional stuff. So yeah...

Chapter 19. Tale of Three Brothers, a different perspective

“You must understand that the whole story is not just a story, it is the poor description of a warning that flew over the understanding of greedy mortals. 

A long time ago, more than a thousand years before your birth, there lived a very talented natural-born necromancer in what is now known as Britain. Like any necromancer, he frequented cemeteries to ensure nothing rose from the dead without control. One night he met a maiden walking among the graves. For him, it was love at first sight. He attempted to woo her, but the only place they would meet was that one cemetery. Not very romantic at all.

He asked for her hand in marriage, but received a refusal every single time. But as any necromancer, he didn’t give up. When his proposal was once more rebutted he stated that she mustn’t be afraid for whatever reason, it would not matter to him if she was Death incarnated. 

The maiden laughed and finally agreed, stating that he now knew what he was getting himself into. She revealed herself to be Death itself. But the besotted necromancer did not care. He loved her anyway.

They married and were happy for a short moment in time. They had three children together, but their happiness did not last. 

The Fates were cruel. Death wasn’t meant to interact with mortals. Death wasn’t meant to have offspring. Death wasn’t meant to love. 

Death’s beloved didn’t live long. Constant interaction with the entity didn’t do any wonders to his health. Had he not been a necromancer, he wouldn’t have survived his marriage night. 

Death was left alone with its half-mortal offspring. Had their divine parent been anything else, the children would have been fine. But the side of them that was death was slowly killing their mortal side. They wouldn’t have survived the process. Death had to chose. To gather the divine heritage in one single child, leaving the other two ordinary mortals. Or to leave everything to Fate. The choice was difficult, more so as none of the children wanted to be immortal. 

So death extracted the divine parts from its children, placing them into artifacts that had to be kept on them at all times to ensure them healthy mortal lives. 

But the Fates interfered once more.

It was deemed that Death had breached divine laws. It not only chose a favorite among the mortals, not only had half-mortal children, but got involved in mortal affairs for them. It was decided that Death and its servants were forevermore banned from any interaction and interference upon the mortal planes of existence. 

Meanwhile, human greed knew no bounds. Tales were spread about the mystical powers of the Peverell brothers. Although they had those same powers before, a physical manifestation was something that could now be taken away. 

The first brother died in his sleep the moment the Elder wand was taken from him. By the time his throat was slit, he was already dead.

The second brother purposefully abandoned the stone in order to join his deceased wife. 

The third brother kept his cloak tight to his chest all his life as he knew through the example of his bothers that should he lose it, he would die. When he was old, he willingly passed it on to his own son.

It must be said that Death was furious with the premature deaths of its children. It was angry at the mortals, it was angry at the Fates. 

The Fates, for all their cruelty knew better than to infuriate Death. 

They prophesied that a worthy descendant would gather all three artifacts and become a purely divine child of Death that could never be taken away. This new divine being would be named the Master of Death and would be the emissary of its divine parent on the mortal plane, for unlike death, it could get involved in mortal affairs to its heart’s content.

And so Death waited.”


	20. Harry meets...

Chapter 20. Harry meets...

At first, I was very confused as to where this dip into legends was going. The more I heard, the more dread filled my stomach. It just has to be your luck Harry! I would be a real idiot if I didn’t understand where this was all going.  
“I can see what you are trying to say, I know the Potters are descendants of the Peverells, but I have never interacted with any of the other artifacts other than the family Cloak. Currently, there is the descendant of the Gaunts, Tom Riddle alive. From what I understand, he and his descendants have the claim now the I am sort of dead.” Even as I said all that, I was frantically searching my memory for anything that could resemble the Wand or the Stone, but was coming up blank.

“That’s where you are wrong. You have the cloak by the right of inheritance. You got the right to the Elder wand from disarming Draco Malfoy, who in turn disarmed Dumbledore. There was quite the panic when the old coot realized that he was no longer that wand’s master and neither were Snape and Malfoy. The stone you got from the same old goat. It was hidden within the snitch. After you checked it for spells you just shoved it into you things and forgot about it.” The man himself sounded surprised at the strange ways I mastered the so-called Hallows.

“But with the old coot’s obsession with the Hallows, how and why did he allow me to get my hands on them? From what I gathered, he didn’t plan for me to survive. He wouldn’t want me to become more powerful. It would be counterproductive” I was beginning to understand that the being in front of me was no mere ancestor of mine.  
“You are correct. He had a plan. Controlled by your so-called ‘friends’ you were meant to destroy Riddle’s Hocruxes. You would have found out that you were one yourself, leading you to walk to your death in a self-sacrificial ritual. 

Harry Potter was meant to die in the Final Battle, with Albus Dumbledore arising in your place. According to his plan, he would have met you in-between successfully displacing you as the last living blood descendant of the Peverells after killing Riddle. He thought that would give him a young body, your fortune, the allegiance of the Hallows and immortality. One thing he didn’t know was that you are a necromancer. Soul magic is one of the intuitive areas of your expertise. Displacing a necromancer from their body is only possible by a more skilled and powerful blood relation. And even then, it is only done to a still developing embryo before the child gains its soul.   
It’s the reason why you never became a Hocrux even after Dumbledore completed the preparation rituals on you himself.

You were meant to get the stone just before your death. It had a fake recording of your parents that would motivate you to die. He thought it was broken and therefore useless anyway. But unlike the wand which didn’t have legitimate owners, the stone and the cloak would only obey Peverell descendants. It is the reason why he had to give your cloak back. It was completely useless in the hands of any other.” 

The man looked at me as if he believed I would fall apart any moment. Truly, I was tempted. I realized that I didn’t have the energy to care. In this moment, I was glad to be sort of dead in an endless sea of white. But I still had questions that didn’t let me slip into apathy.

“So basically I slipped out of a noose as it was tightening around my neck. Nothing new there. The Potter luck strikes again…” I took a breath before jumping of the deep end and opening a new can of worms. “In relation to everything you have said, you still haven’t introduced yourself…”

The man seamed to momentarily display a small conniving smirk.

“Oh Harry, I think you already know who I am.”

One word slipped from my mouth…

“Death…”


	21. Apocalypse Today... or Tomorrow

Chapter 21. Apocalypse Today

After an endless stupor on my end, I had to ask probably the most tactless question possible.   
“So does that make you my grandmother?...”

That made Death cringe as if he was in the process of chewing a lemon.

“Please don’t… Don’t make this anymore awkward. Death is genderless, ageless and endless. Especially since at the end of the day I am actually one of your parents.” 

That made me widen my eyes.

“How does that even work? Do you displace one of my parent’s genes?”

Meet Harry the three-year-old. The questions are truly infinite…

Death seemed to take a breath to steel himself.

“No. We will approach that one later, there is something else that we need to discuss. 

There are many physical planes of existence, many planets, many dimensions, many worlds. Some are inhabited, some are not.   
Each and every inhabited world has a mechanism for culling excess populations as well as a defined method to bring about the apocalypse. Some are automatic, others are manual. Some are recorded in lore as prophesy or legends, others are only evident afterwards.   
So tell me Harry, what do you think you have done?”

In that instant I felt like a child being scolded by a loving parent for painting the wallpaper with crayons. It was an entirely new feeling. I wouldn’t call it unpleasant. 

“Ah... I may have invented a highly contagious necromantic virus that I injected into my body before blowing it up to smithereens? It was an accident? Maybe? It is only meant to target Dumbledore’s Order of the Chicken and the British wizarding world? It decomposes the lungs within the body.” My eyes were squeezed shut and I was rambling. Just by stating it out loud, I realized how much could actually go wrong with my crazy plan.

“Well congratulations Harry. You have succeeded. But you may have underestimated yourself just a tiny bit. Next time your revenge is blown out of proportions, please make sure that it’s only your target population that’s effected and not every single living creature with a set of lungs.” 

Death looked at me as if I was a kitten that used his least favorite slippers as a litter box.

“Ooops… How bad is it?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“Within the next year, every single sentient being in that world would die. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that is? Now, if I was petty I would recreate your body and make you live out the millions of years waiting for sentient life to evolve from crustaceans. However, I am not that mean. You did show surprising resourcefulness and were successful in your revenge, if a bit too much.  
If you were virtually anyone else, your virus would have decimated about 10-30% of the population. But as my child capable of direct involvement in the living planes you are capable of bringing the end to every world in every single universe so keep that in mind.   
Otherwise well done.” 

“Are the other entities angry?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“Not really. That world was almost at its natural end of evolution anyway. In less than a hundred years or so everything would have been wiped out by muggle vs magical wars. At least in this case the planet would still remain habitable.”


	22. Unconventional body snatching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 1 guys. Leaving the HP world behind now.

Chapter 22. Unconventional body snatching 

We stood silent for a long time. It was hard to believe that my actions led to the destruction of all sentient species on my home world. For some reason I felt nothing. I wasn’t shocked or ashamed. I wasn’t devastated with the guaranteed deaths of innocents. I realized that I just didn’t care. Just as no one cared about me. I just felt as a toddler caught with its hand in the cookie jar.  
“Is there a reason why I feel so numb? I can’t muster up any emotions when I think of the humans…”

Death looked at me and sighed.  
“It’s a defence mechanism of divine beings. The lives of humans and most other sentient races are fleeting. Very few can worm themselves into our hearts. No one you left behind held any sentimental value to you. Otherwise you would have felt very differently.”

“So what happens next?” 

This question seemed to bother me the most. Do I go back? Do I stay in the white? Do I cross over? None of these options struck a chord in my heart. While going back would bring a fleeting sense of satisfaction at seeing my vengeance carried out, getting stuck to watch the process of evolution in slow motion is just not worth it. Staying in the white is also not a great option. I would start climbing the metaphorical walls from boredom. There was nothing worthwhile to cross over for. The traitors, the haters, the ‘friends’… Even my so-called family wasn’t truly worth it. Sirius abandoned me at every turn. I was never ‘just Harry’ to him, only the extension of his best friend. My parents were just Dumbledore’s puppets that played bait for a psychopath using an infant.

Hopefully my newly announced parent would be different. I don’t care that they are literally Death. As long as they cared about me. Me. Just Harry. Not the Boy Who Lived. Not the Fortune on Legs. Not the 3rd Dark Lord of the 20th century according to wizarding Britain’s housewife gossip. Not some disposable chess piece.

I would give this a chance.

“This question is actually quite complicated. If you still had your original body, it would have gradually adjusted to the strain of your divine power. Unfortunately now that you have accidentally played the role of the rider on the pale horse, your power has grown exponentially. Even if your body is recreated, it would not be able to handle your current power levels that would just continue to grow.   
For this reason we can’t just implant you into a random body or embryo in a random world. If I miracle a baby into some unfortunate creature, they would never survive even a week of the pregnancy.” 

“This situation sounds hopeless but you sound as if you know a solution.” 

Death gave me a small smile as if to praise my deductive reasoning skills.

“There are The Entities, the ultimate divine beings such as Fate, Love, Magic, Chaos, Order, Life and Myself. Then there are the deities, which are lower tier divine beings. At least compared to us. But they are extremely powerful in their own right.  
Recently one such being lost a child. The ‘pregnancy’ is still progressing, but the child will not live. This being knows this, but has not interrupted its cycle in the hopes of the child’s recovery. It pleads with the cosmos to allow the babe to live.  
This is its first and only child. If it loses this babe, it will never have children again.   
I can ‘miracle baby’ you into this being. It is powerful enough to survive your birth.” 

I blinked. This kind of solution sounded more and more surreal.  
“But wouldn’t such a powerful being notice that I am not a normal baby? I doubt they would be happy to know that something snatched up their child’s body?”

Death rolled his eyes.  
“Of course it would notice. But the thing is, this type of divine being comes with genetic memories. Compared to that, 40 years of a ‘mortal’ life would be a grain of sand in a desert. In comparison to millions of years, your lifetime would still render you an infant.   
It pleads for a miracle completely accepting the consequences. Losing its child wasn’t an accident. The other parent viciously tore its own spiritual matter from the forming babe in the hopes of killing it and mortally wounding the carrier parent.   
It is barely keeping its child’s essence together. Without the contribution of a second parent, more powerful than the original, its babe will die.   
Harry believe me this is the best solution. You lack a divine ‘mother’, that being’s embryo lacks a divine father. Other options would take time and it is unlikely that such an opportunity would present itself again.  
By taking this option you will have a doting ‘mother’ who would love you to bits and pieces. You could raze worlds to the ground and get hugs and kisses instead of a scolding. Stop over-thinking things.”

I looked into my… father’s eyes. They were the same as my own. They were sincere. I guess my life will now change forever. This isn’t something that could be undone. 

But I will take the risk.

I will trust again.


	23. Part 2: Buddhism 4ever!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onto part 2 now. HP world is now in the past.

Part 2

Chapter 23. Buddhism 4ever!

Ok, life as a sentient embryo sucks! 

Don’t follow my example. Ever.

Initially I didn’t even have eyes or appendages. If I didn’t have any sensitivity due to my magic, I would have probably gone insane. Imagine just coming into being and just staying there for an endless amount of time. Being unable to move or do anything at all…

Ok I should totally become a madly religious Buddhist in this next life. Got proof that reincarnation is a thing…

But then, maybe not. 

Is a religious divine being even a thing? Ok let’s not go there…

Although I started off as a little gathering of genetic material, that didn’t dampen my magical sensitivity whatsoever. I can see what Death (father?) meant by exponentially growing power. If at the end of my last life my magical core was had the volume of an Olympic swimming pool, which was considered insanely powerful for a wizard, it is currently the entire world’s bodies of water combined and still growing. By the time of my birth it is likely going to be the size of the solar system and increasing throughout my life. Just thinking about it makes my non-existent head spin.

But however powerful I will be by the time of my birth, my power will be minuscule in comparison to my new mother. 

Their power reserves are INSANE!

Yes my new mother…

What can I say, it was totally mutual love at first interaction. 

When I first came to being, I panicked. I wasn’t ready for the feeling of helplessness that now accompanied me. In my last life, such a state would get me killed or captured. I couldn’t afford weaknesses. But my existence didn’t go unnoticed. At first there was an intense feeling of hopeful disbelief. Then the endless presence I was surrounded by, gently approached my being. Momentarily, it felt stunned. And then I was surrounded by a loving feeling of intense joy. 

Since that moment, I have never felt alone. My new mother always gently supports my presence. Its power is warm and gentle. And she talks and sings to me in the most beautiful voice...

Unfortunately, the language she uses isn’t something I can understand. It is definitely no language that was spoken in my last world. It is something musical, almost like dolphin chirping, bird song and a high Elven dialect all fused into one language. It is definitely not something human vocal chords can reproduce. Sometimes I feel as if I could almost understand fragments of her speech. That is probably that genetic memory Death told me about. Or maybe one of those remarkable baby skills, where an infant learns to natively speak a foreign language in two years…

One thing is for certain, that while my mother loves me, I pity everyone in her vicinity. She has the most dreadful mood swings. 

One moment she is happily cooing at my presence and the next, there is fury (obviously someone disturbed her), then there is exhilaration (what could she possibly be doing? If she wasn’t pregnant I would say she is bungy jumping or fighting for her life), then there is a sense of satisfaction, fury once more, than melancholy and then she is happily cooing at me again.

My new mum is also very active. Believe me I can tell. Sexually, physically and everything in between. Seriously, there are some things kids are never meant to know about their parents. 

I am definitely terrified at the concept of having to be born, but at the same time I am looking forward to seeing my new mum for the first time. 

One thing is for certain. In my new life, I will be loved and I doubt that I would ever be bored.


	24. Surprise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life caught up with me so I am gonna do one update a day...

Chapter 24. Surprise?

I don’t know how long I was there, surrounded by my mum’s warm presence. Unfortunately, all good things always come to an end. 

The moment I was hopefully waiting for, while dreading it at the same time came around very suddenly.   
One moment my mum was in one of her exhilarated mood swings, and the next there was a feeling of wrong/right and then the pain came. 

I can definitely say my mum panicked. She freaked out very badly. But whatever she was doing, she couldn’t just abandon it. And so for some time she continued her previous task. But she was no longer exhilarated. She was annoyed, angry, tired, internally panicking and in pain. 

Eventually, she either completed or abandoned whatever she was doing. We were magically transported elsewhere.  
And then I was born.

It is most definitely not a process I want to describe. If I could Obliviate myself without turning into a drooling idiot, I would have already done so. Seriously, brain bleach is required.

But whatever I experienced during my birth was definitely outweighed by the love and delight I felt when handed into my mother’s arms.

As a newborn I couldn’t see very well. From my perspective, my new mum was a large golden, honey blob that was gently holding me in her arms. Reassured by the safety of her presence, I fell asleep.


	25. Mum?

Chapter 25. Mum?

When I awoke once more, I was still with my mum. I could feel her familiar, loving embrace even half-asleep.   
Slowly, I tried to open my eyes.

At first I felt the urge to scrunch them up again. They weren’t used to the light yet. I didn’t really resist.   
A few minutes later, I attempted to open them again. 

This time, I was going with slow, but steady. Eventually, after what felt like forever, I successfully opened my new eyes to the world. But just because I opened them, didn’t mean that I could see anything at all. All I could distinguish was that large honey-gold blob above me.

For a moment I panicked. But then I realized it was my mum.

Obviously my new mother is blond with sun-kissed skin. Deductive reasoning. Seriously Harry.

That’s when my mum let out a soft coo.   
“Oh look at that my baby Harriel. You have got the got the most beautiful green eyes.”

Oh at least I have one thing carried over from my last life. The eyes are the windows of the soul, and my soul is all very Harry. 

That’s when I realized that I could finally understand my mum. Her speech was no longer a lyrical string of chirps. I involuntarily let out a coo of absolute delight. 

“Oh look at that! You can already understand coherent speech! Such a bright little babe you are…”  
As my mum continued her delighted babble, I realized that my vision has slowly been coming into focus. 

I could distinguish honey-spun shoulder-length hair. I could see beautiful, sharp cheekbones and aristocratic features. My new mother had long fingers of a pianist and a defined lithe figure. My mother had the most wonderful deep, dark blue eyes, alike the night sky. But instead of stars and constellations, they were alight with swirls of Fiendfire from within. A ring of continuously changing fire-red surrounded the dark blue, with sparks of fire alighting like stars about the pupil, strangely reminding me of an endless abyss.

My new mother had a beautiful pair of majestic white wings. 

My new mother was also very male.


	26. Potter luck strikes again

Chapter 26. Potter luck strikes again

I really shouldn’t be surprised. 

My life is like a roller-coaster of absurdity. A reality show with elements of fantasy and horror.

I have evolved from a mortal puppet on strings to a powerful necromancer to Master of Death. Now my new father is actually my great grandmother and my new mother is a male angel. Maybe? 

I guess I just have to watch, listen and learn. Seriously, the more I learn about divine beings, the more I realize how gender confused they are. I promise to myself that whatever happens, I would not be surprised.

Looking back at my new parent, I could tell that they are obviously not human. Their features were too symmetrical. Such perfection never occurs in humans. They have no blemishes, no birthmarks, no rashes. No human imperfections. Their skin seemed to be producing a gentle glow, making their features luminous. My new parent had no nipples, no belly button. Their hands ended with gorgeous little claws.

Then there were the wings. I wonder if I have wings…

Just as I thought about it, I felt something move along my back. I can seriously say I freaked out. My mother (parent?) could obviously tell.

“Oh Harriel, stop flapping your wings. You haven’t even grown any down yet. Rapid movements could hurt them.” My parent laughed.

I could feel my eyes widen. Wings? I have wings? I have wings! 

In that moment I was so happy, I could fly. I always loved flying. Even when I was forcefully entered into the Quidditch team via the old goat’s manipulations to isolate me from my peers (children were jealous that exceptions to rules were made because I was a celebrity), I enjoyed the flying while hating the actual game.   
I wonder what color they will be… My parent’s are white… Are they always white? Do they come in natural bird colors? Or are they like fairy wings that are of all the colors of the rainbow…

I felt like my thoughts were getting a bit carried away. 

I know human babies can’t lift their heads for months, but I wasn’t human now was I? So when I tried to move my head I actually succeeded. 

I was stunned when I looked around the room. It was a huge bedroom, but then for a baby everything would seem huge. The bed we were lying on was massive (for the wings?). The ceilings were so high that my parent could probably fly unhindered. The windows were basically doors through which one could easily go outside. We were high up. I didn’t know how high, but I could see the sky and faraway mountaintops. 

One thing I could say for sure is that this is my parent’s room. It had tasteful, light wooden furniture and many doors that lead to other rooms. My new mother was definitely not a neat freak like Petunia Dursley (I felt like scrunching up my baby-button nose at the thought of her). There were potted plants on many surfaces. There were blooming vines freely growing on one of the walls. There were multiple bookshelves as well as open books just freely lying around. Interestingly enough, there was something I could definitely identify as a weapon stash and armor strewn across the floor from one of the doors towards the bed. 

On the bed next to us lay a sword, it was a beautiful glowing silver with intricate designs and writings I could now likely decipher if I focus, but the blade wasn’t pristinely clean. There were drops of something that looked like golden unicorn blood dripping onto the sheets. 

Looks like I finally know what my parent did during all those mood swings…


	27. How to feed a baby duckling?

Chapter 27. How to feed a baby duckling?

All those excessive thought processes made me hungry. 

But I am a baby now. How do babies ask for food? They cry… 

But I am not a human baby. What do baby angels even eat? I guess I am stuck like this until my parent realizes that they need to feed me.

That’s when I felt so sad. And so hungry. It was like the cupboard under the stairs all over again. But while there it was useless to ask for food, here I don’t even know how.

I felt tears gather up in my eyes. My bottom lip trembled. I opened my mouth and instead of a baby’s cry, a high-pitched clicking sound came out. Out of shock at the sudden unexpected noise, I closed my mouth and it immediately stopped. 

But my parent obviously did their parenting homework. They bent down, gathered me closer to their chest and looked into my eyes.  
“Haru, baby it’s alright. Give me a moment. I was surprised you are only hungry now and not earlier.”

Then they gathered me up and leaned closer to my lips. In that very second I remembered one of those Planet Earth documentaries about mama birds regurgitating food for their babies. Dread welled up in the pit of my little stomach. Honestly, I would rather be breast-fed that that! Death! Get me out of here!

My fears were proven true when my parent opened his mouth and leaned in even closer. But instead of a flow of vomit, a golden glow left their lips and entered mine. For a few moments, I was shocked. Then I settled into a feeling of sated contentment. 

But one though crawled though my mind. I have seen a similar method of feeding before. Does this make mama and myself related to Dementors? 

Well never mind that…

Baby Angel/ Dementor/ Master of Death is beginning a new life.

Don’t get in my way.


	28. The baby

Chapter 28. The baby

I don’t understand why babies sleep so damn much! 

I think it has been almost a year. I can now crawl and make little baby steps. I can even talk! If only I didn’t have to sleep so much, I would have been so much more productive! I would have been awesome! The super baby! But no… I am this boring baby that just sleeps all day long…

Well, getting back to talking…

I said my first word! It’s official…

It was Lucy…

You want to know why?

If you aren’t dumb you can probably guess… 

Yeah, my new ‘mum’s’ name is Lucifer…

Potter luck strikes once more and hits the bull’s eye (or kicks me in the face). You should have seen me when I found out. I swear my eye twitched for like an hour.

Well back to Lucy… 

Yeah he hates that name. Only lets me call him that, ‘cause I am the baby (best excuse ever!). Azzy (Azazel) got a fireball thrown at him for repeating it. I don’t think that helped though. The minions might be all upright and official in front of him, but I totally swear that that’s what they now call him behind closed doors. I think he knows it too. That nickname is official and contagious.   
It has stuck.

One thing I seriously love about my new parent, is that he drags me around literally EVERYWHERE! I get to sit in on meetings (more like doze away for the most part). I get taken to anything official like those super fancy meals and stuff. I get brought around to all the training exercises (honestly, ripping limbs off isn’t cool even if they grow back!). I get dragged to all the parties (saw some things I really want to unsee, seriously people, don’t bring babies to orgies! The excuse that they won’t remember is ridiculous! Just don’t). 

I swear part of the reason why Lucy drags me around with him is his paranoia. He is like that stereotypical helicopter parent, but instead of being controlling and locking me up in a tower somewhere he wants me to experience every single pleasure in life. To him everything is permitted as long as he shows me the ropes (I really dread The Talk in his interpretation, seriously! It’s probably going to be a live explanation into existing kinks or something!)

Another reason he always takes me with him is to use me as a physical baby shield. Ok that sounded really wrong… It’s hard to explain… Well… Lil’s (Lilith) is a sexually active menace! She is like Bellatrix but a hundred times worse! I think ‘mum’ is very glad he isn’t the only one she stalks. He is still her main target but she has definitely slept with everyone else. As he said, he thought sleeping with her would curb her urges. Unfortunately, that was wishful thinking on his part. It just made a bad situation worse. 

Lucy even keeps me sleeping in his bed. Seriously. Just in case she breaks in and tries to take advantage of his sleeping body. That fear is definitely NOT unfounded. Believe me.

‘Mum’ and all his lieutenants should really learn the meaning of ‘child appropriate content’. They wouldn’t know the difference between PG and 18+ if it hit them in the face. Some days I feel like I am surrounded by very active bunnies. At first I made up excuses for them. I was like ‘they are letting out those millions of years of built-up sexual tension’. Then I found out that the Heavenly Host is the same, if not worse. They just have better PR management.

The most active bunny after Lil’s is Asmodeus. If he and Lil’s ever teamed up we would all be doomed. But they can’t stand the competition or each other and resolutely refuse to share. Their hate for one another is the one reliable constant in this life. We are safe. For now.  
About all the demons being Lil’s and Lucy’s kids, those rumours are apparently just bullshit. ‘Mum’ even suspects who started them… 

Lil’s is like: ‘Everyone already thinks we are together! We are absolutely made for each other!’

And Lucy is like: ‘Not in a million years.’ 

And she is like: ‘What about afterwards?’

And ‘mum’ is like: ‘NOOO!’ 

My absolute favourite minion is Sam (Sammael). He is the Fallen Archangel of Death. It was love at first sight. He was just like: ‘Haru darling, when you grow up, we are going to have so much fun. We are going to conquer the world. Every living being will fall to their knees. And there will be Death! Endless Death! Infinite Death!’

And then his speech ended ‘cause Lucifer threw a potted plant at his face.


	29. Mission Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #worst_birthday_present_ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. Has anyone ever got something for their birthday that they want to return? Or lose? Badly? Or just disappear? Permanently.  
> Support & Hugs guys. We have all been there before...

Chapter 29. Mission Impossible

What do adults give to little kids for their birthdays?

Let’s be honest here, we all wish for those perfect, rich, movie-screen parents with psychic friends which always know what to get you for every single special occasion. 

Sadly, most of us get a reality check somewhere along the way. Whether it’s grandma’s ugly, hand-knitted sweaters (thanks Mrs Weasley) that could simultaneously fit five iterations of yourself or multiples of the same present (why the Hell would I need 23 copies of Quidditch through the Ages, I would probably never know). Believe me, as someone who has lived in a dorm room with virtually no privacy and had Dudley for a cousin, I thought I had seen it all.  
Oh, how wrong was I…

The issue is…

I was turning something. 

No idea what honestly. Apparently, birthdays in Heaven weren’t a thing. When literally thousands of angels were created every single moment in time, birthday celebrations weren’t something that was deemed important. 

The palace we were currently based in is located in one of the realms that the demons and Fallen had conquered and secured away from the Heavenly Host. It was previously nameless but is now called the Realm of Unseelie. Apparently the name was something proposed by a very intoxicated Azzy. He tried to say Realm of Heaven’s Unseemly elements but the mispronounced, slurred version of it sounded closer to ‘the Realm of Unseelie’. Then it kind of stuck.

I knew I wasn’t mortal. Not anything close. All those human baby milestones were no longer for me. Oh how relieved I was when I realized that there was no embarrassing ‘potty training’ associated with divine babies! I am a literal ball of energy! Of fluff…

Yeah…

Apparently angels celebrate their babies getting fluffy wings. It’s a really big deal. Literally every single ‘inner circle’ demon and angel attended mine.

According to tradition, each arriving guest had to ‘feed the baby’. The cycle had to end with the baby’s mother. 

It’s no wonder angels are so messed up. If the kinky traditions start from literal babyhood it’s a wonder how they get anything done at all! Seriously! After kissing every single attending guest, I felt like I had just participated in some adult drinking game. Bunnies. The lot of them…

Then, there were the gifts…

I have never seen so many weapons in my life (both of them!). I don’t even want to approach the subject of Lilith’s gift with a ten-foot pole. The socially awkward ones gave me books (Hermione Granger, is that you?). Those who wanted to suck-up to Lucy, gave me plants. ‘Mum’ really does love his plants. The deadlier the better. I don’t really mind. They are all house trained and absolutely love me. After the unspeakable Lilith incident, he keeps the most dangerous ones next to the bed. Just in case.

Lucy is awesome! Lucy is the best! Lucy is the most awesome mum in the universe!

Lucy gave me a baby Quetzalcoatl! 

Anyway…

After all that, it was time for the main event. A surprise they said. And it was. I just hate surprises.

With all the excess ‘food’, the long ceremony of gift presentation, it was no wonder that I ended up falling asleep.

As I woke from my doze, I realized myself comfortably nesting in my mother’s arms. I felt so safe and content. And then I opened my eyes.  
We were standing on the edge of a cliff. All the guests were expectantly watching. Some were next to us, others were flying above, while most of the group was gliding somewhere far below.

I had a very bad feeling about this. My intuition was basically a blaring alarm in my mind. I suspected I knew where this was going…  
Lucy held me out like that lion cub from the Disney movie and flew over the edge.

For a moment I hoped that we would stay there. That he just decided to show me off to the world in such an unusual manner.

But he let go.

And I fell like a rock.

But then…

My little wings finally flapped open…

And I flew.


	30. Plans vs Reality

Chapter 30. Plans vs Reality 

After the impromptu flying session, I sulked for like a week. And while Lucy was good at pretending to be apologetic, I could tell that he was just humoring me. 

I knew that birds taught their chicks to fly by kicking them out of the nest, I just didn’t expect it to happen so literally! Or to me!  
I thought it would be more along the lines of doing some wing exercises then learning to glide from a low height. I didn’t expect my nitwit of a mother to genuinely THROW ME OFF A DAMN CLIFF!

Apparently, I was correct in my initial reasoning. There were just two acknowledged ways to teach babies how to fly. The safe, slow-and-steady method and the fast but dangerous, ‘you-are-a-lunatic’, RIP baby method. Care to take a guess at what my impatient idiot of a mother chose? 

Yeah…

I am not exactly surprised.

And then he said he was taught exactly the same way…

It’s really no wonder that he threw a massive tantrum, rebelled and ran away if that is how things are done in the family.

Anyway…

My dreams of getting Lucy’s wings actually came true! Though while his are a pure white, mine are a little different with a pale-white plumage. Sammael has taken to calling me ‘the Little Death on Pale Wings’. I love it.

Sadly, that’s the only obvious thing I have inherited from him…

My dreams of getting that sun-kissed skin and beautiful blonde hair were crushed the first time I got to a mirror. Remember how necro-Harry looked? The pale-as-Death skin, black claws, the Avada-green eyes, the obsidian-black hair? Yeah, layer all that on perfectly symmetrical features, mini-Lucy and you get me. It seems as if that when I finally reach maturity I will be Lucy number two with a different color scheme. At least I dodged the black veins this time around. Those were a complete nightmare to hide. Concealer was my best friend for years.

Fortunately, my pout didn’t stop Lucifer from dragging me to meetings. Although most of them were filled with meaningless or just boring information that made little sense to me, some news made the boredom worthwhile.

This time around, Lucy got it into his head to plan the final confrontation with the Heavenly Host!

To say that everyone was shocked would be an understatement.

It must be explained that this reality consists of seven identified realms. They include the Void (a demon dimension that no sane being would want to live in), Hell (that one is self-explanatory), the Unseelie Realm (home-sweet-home!), Edom (a demonized mirror version of the Earth), Earth (the human realm), the Seelie Realm (a mirror dimension of the Unseelie Realm, currently occupied by the Heavenly forces,) Heaven (no words needed there) and Limbo. 

It is amusing that with four archangels on Heaven’s side, they only occupy two realms, while our forces currently hold four. Limbo is the endless white domain of Death that is the same for every single world in existence. No divine creature is insane enough to attempt to lay claim on Limbo. It is like a Switzerland you could only visit once you are permanently dead.


	31. Temper, temper

Chapter 31. Temper, temper

“We will not win!” Asmodeus shouted.

It must be said that after Lucy’s announcement everyone seemed to lose all sense trying to bring across their personal opinion.

Lucifer smirked.  
“Who says that we need to?”

He took a meaningful pause to take in all the surprised faces.  
“After the Creator fucked off to He-knows-where to sulk, Heaven’s morale is at its lowest point since before our creation. They are incapable of presenting a united front. And while we have taken the most out of the situation, it is only reasonable to permanently secure our positions.” 

As the more battle-inclined one, Azzy seemed to catch on before anyone else.  
“Do you mean to say that we will most certainly NOT be storming Heaven’s gates?”

Lilith looked positively scandalized.   
“Are you proposing a TREATY?! Are you just trying to nullify all out efforts? Weren’t you the one who said that you shall see all those holy bastards on their knees?! The one who promised a rain of hellfire upon the humans’ heads until the error of their creation was rightened?! ”

Lucy dropped all pretense of his prior amusement.  
“Lilith, it is not your place to question my decisions. As we stand, we are currently at our most profitable positions since the start of the war. But what you forget is that Fortune is a fickle lover. One moment she is entertaining you with luxurious gifts and captivating smiles, while the next, you are left a beggar in the dirt.  
What everyone in this room seems to forget is that Heaven has four archangels compared to us having two. Yes, Raphael is a Healer that prefers to stay away from anything material. Yes, Gabriel is the Voice that cares not to involve himself in any quarrels, choosing to spread word about them instead. But what you forget, is that Heaven is their home. And the thinking that they will not pick up arms to defend it is just delusional.   
It is unfortunate, but the disorganization among the Heavenly troops is only temporary. The Creator unwillingly played our hand when he left. It has been a millennia, and the remaining archangels still quarrel for their place in the divine pecking order. But such power play will not play to our advantage forever.  
In this next and hopefully final battle, we have the potential of securing the Seelie Realm. That would leave the other side with only Heaven to stew in.  
IF and only IF we win, we would be able to secure a treaty from the position of power. Realms secured by our forces would remain in our grasp. Heaven would remain for the angels. Limbo would still be Limbo. And Earth would be the eternal Neutral ground. The only thing we have to make sure of, is to explicitly forbid any angelic interaction with the humans. From then on they are their own race. Completely on their own.   
I will not give Heaven the satisfaction of having mortal pawns with free will to throw against us. In their arrogance, they would give them too much power. Humans have always been the Creator’s favorite pets. I would rather not give him an excuse to justify direct involvement.  
There would not be a powerful third side in the game if I have any say about it.   
Their fate is to act as an eternal buffer between the damned and the divine.”

While Lilith looked genuinely scandalized, Asmodeus had a resigned look on his face, Sam and Azzy looked thoughtful. Everyone else just looked bored.

Sam decided to ask the question that was nagging just about everyone else.  
“So what do you propose? Are we to play nice with Heaven? You do realize that as they currently are, they will never accept a treaty on our terms. Michael will be the first to throw it in your face that he shall not deal with fallen scum. That us filth all belong at our rightful place at his feet. And that when we come crawling and begging to surrender that perhaps he shall consider it out of pity.”

At his last words, Lucifer’s face turned into a stone mask that did not betray any emotions. I had never seen my mother in such a state. He has always been terrifying in his fury, but this was something else.

His eyes flashed with hellfire as he struggled to get a furious wave of his power under control.  
“Do not dare utter that name in my presence!” He hissed out. 

I could swear it was in Parseltongue, if only the others didn’t understand him.  
“I will not rest until that traitorous scum is either permanently dead or imprisoned! This war shall not end and no treaty will be proposed, until my will is done!”

His face was white with withheld rage. I guess I have my answer as to who was the initial baby-daddy…

Sammael looked hesitant to open his mouth once more, but it was obvious that he could not resist the temptation.  
“Not that I doubt your abilities, but you have to be realistic. I do not know what he has done to earn your wrath. I don’t want to know. But you have to remember that he is an archangel. The oldest of all of us. The most powerful. Second only to the Creator. None of us could be killed through any means by anyone weaker in power. While you are vulnerable to him, he is not. You must not forget that.”

For a moment, Lucy looked as if he was about to explode with rage. But then, it was as if someone flipped a switch and left him tired and empty. 

He looked like he was about to cry.  
“Do you really believe that I do not know it? There is not a single moment in which I allow myself to forget.” 

He looked tired.  
“We have no choice. Either we plan a battle on our terms, or he brings the Heavenly forces to tear down our defenses when they are prepared and organised. We have a choice, but there is none.”

Everyone sat in sullen silence for a long moment.

Lucifer took a deep breath in and continued.  
“Nevertheless, all planning and instructions shall be given separately afterwards. You all know this by now.   
Currently, I would like to approach a different matter.  
You all know about Haru. You all love him as your own fledgling. He is the most precious thing that I have in this life.   
I would wish to pretend ignorance, but I am not so foolish. It would be stupid to assume that our enemies do not know of his existence.  
I cannot take him to battle. Nor can I leave him in the castle to await our return. I need to assign a trusted force to guard my child in secret. They must be prepared for anything. I have to be able to trust them to raise him and to keep him safe in the event of my own downfall.  
May I have your suggestions on the candidates.”

In that moment he looked as serious as I had ever seen him.


	32. Meanwhile, elsewhere

Chapter 32. Meanwhile, elsewhere

Inside a typical office stood a group of angels. Another figure was awaiting their report.

“So it survived.”  
The figure’s wings twitched with irritation.

“I guess it was optimistic to hope otherwise. Lucifer was always the cunning snake of the family. If anyone had any luck at saving the abomination, it was him.” Michael’s fingers clenched into a fist.

One of the angels from among the group was quick to voice his protest.  
“My lord, but with all due respect, it was just an innocent fledgling. The other parent’s contribution was only there beside your own. It had the capacity for greatness after being sired by one such as yourself. Perhaps the dislike you hold for its other parent would have been irrelevant had the child been taken away. It is usually a matter of nature vs nurture. Surely an innocent babe didn’t deserve your wrath…”

He didn’t get to finish. 

Where he once stood, was a pile of ashes.

“Does anyone else have anymore irrelevant questions?   
Listen and learn. I shall not repeat this. That thing was an abomination, even with half of its essence coming from me. The other half came from Lucifer. It was tainted from the beginning.   
My brother is dead. What is left behind, is a creature of temptation and filth.  
The thing he was carrying was a product of sin. It didn’t deserve to live. Just as its ‘mother’. I attempted the merciful approach. I had thought I had destroyed it before it came to awareness or left its stain upon the world.  
I was wrong.  
I didn’t account for Lucifer’s devious nature.   
I do not know which greater being he had seduced to let him keep the creature, I do not care for such an entity tarnishes the legacy of our creator.   
It no longer has any of my essence. It is completely un-salvageable.  
We shall not stand for this.  
That THING will die!  
And so will Lucifer.”

Michael’s face contorted in barely withheld fury. Then it smoothed over once again looking as pristine and beautiful as it had before.  
“We shall bide our time. Prepare for battle. But stay vigilant.  
I know the thing that used to be my brother.  
He was always possessive and cautious with his belongings. Before the battle, he will most likely seek to evacuate the abomination with a team of loyal guards. The epitome of success would be to infiltrate that team.   
However, if that isn’t possible, we shall follow to their destination and destroy the taint forever.”

He looked into the eyes of the group before him, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation, as well as check for any protesters.

There were none.

“You are the team of my most trusted.  
As I will be needed on the battlefield, I will be unable to destroy the thing myself.  
That tedious task falls to you.  
Do no fail me.  
You would not wish to live to regret it.”


	33. Where is the off switch?

Chapter 33. Where is the off switch?

It feels like our home has become an insane asylum where all the inmates are on LSD. 

Seriously.

Everyone is running around the place, screeching like banshees. 

Some weirdos look for things that they haven’t seen in centuries. Honestly, if your armor is so precious to you, why the Hell would you leave it somewhere you cannot find? And considering that no one else had ever seen it or heard of it, did it ever even exist as more than a figment of someone’s overactive imagination?

These days I feel like I am surrounded by muscled and winged parodies on Luna Lovegood. 

Get me out of here!

Sadly, it seems like someone (namely mum) has heard my internal pleas. I am due to leave the only home I have ever known with a team of most trusted guards just before everyone leaves for the battle. 

And I don’t like it!

Not one bit!

In horror movies, something always happens when someone separates from the group. I don’t want it to be me! I don’t want to leave mum!  
But is anyone listening to me?

No.

Well to be honest, I can’t really talk coherently yet. My attempt at negotiation was a furious string of high-pitched chirping with some random words mixed in.

I think Lucy understood everything. He just pretended to be deaf.

I am so mad.

Just because I am a toddler, doesn’t mean that I don't have opinions.

Listen to me!

They matter! I matter…

And yes, I know that bringing a child to a battlefield is dumb. But that’s beside the point.

I have feelings too…

(Cries…)

So…

Throwing a tantrum did not work. I am still being evacuated. 

At least my mum is so much smarter than the Potters. 

He is like: ‘hide and evacuate the baby, my ex is a psycho’. 

The Potters were like: ‘let’s be sitting ducks, this psychopath is after any of the thousands of babies born on this day, we will just irritate him for kicks’.

I have a really bad feeling about this…

But I won’t be caught unprepared. Anyone after this baby is in for one Hell of a surprise.


	34. Abandon the ship

Chapter 34. Abandon the ship

The first thing I did for my genius plan, was steal Lucy’s container for watering his plants. In return, I gave him something special just in case. Hopefully it won’t be necessary but I wouldn’t bet on it.

He looked at me like I had lost my mind, but I have trained him well. Every single parent worth their salt knows that you do not take ANYTHING from the grasp of the baby (unless its life threatening). Otherwise you are at the risk of going death and sleepless for an undefined period of time.

So here I am, being snuck away from the palace by a team of guards, hugging a thermos of water close to my chest. When the enemies strike, I will be ready.

When we reached the safe house, it was still dark. The guards were as vigilant as ever. They didn’t suspect a thing. Today is the day of the final battle between the forces of Heaven and Hell. The Light and the Dark. Today is the day that history is written in stone.

I would prefer to think that the guards are all very honored with the baby-sitting duty. But I know better than that. Every single one of these beings would prefer to be out there, in the open, causing havoc upon the battlefield. Not sneaking away through the night to guard a baby.   
I can’t really blame them. 

If their feelings make them less attentive, then the better for me. The less attachment I feel for them the better. I doubt that our group would get through this unscathed.

We make it through the next day with no incidents. Nothing out of place. Everything according to plan. And that worries me the most. As I know that any plans’ life expectancy is until they meet Harry Potter.   
We are doomed.

The next day is worse. There is no news from the battlefield. No news at all. 

Perhaps it is easy for bystanders during wars but not for me. I have Lucy. The entire the inner circle including Lilith have become my family. I do not want to find out what it is like to lose it. I have just allowed myself to get attached. Just gave myself permission to live.

The next day had seemed just like the previous. Until night came. And then it wasn’t. But what the intruders didn’t know about was that by annihilating the guard, they unleashed a monster.

The entire time, the most dangerous predator was the seemingly helpless toddler they had come to kill.

And they gave it time.

A necromancer needs nothing else.


	35. Of absentee dads

Chapter 35. Of absentee dads

As the literal child of Death, I can feel its presence. Ironically enough that means that while most would be quick to dub him the absentee dad, my father is an ever-present constant in my life. How many creatures die around one person in any given instant? I am nominating him forward as father of the year. Seriously.

I am never alone.

I am used to it.

It’s a constant background noise inside my mind.

But the death of a sentient creature, especially an immortal is a different thing entirely.

When I felt the first one in my vicinity, I knew.

They have come.

I wasted no time with my preparations. I was alone in the room. I was meant to be sleeping. I wasn’t. 

The guards attempted to remove Lucy’s water container on multiple occasions. I was having none of it. Eventually the issue was left alone. After all, who would want to upset the baby by taking away the reminder of their beloved parent? It ended up being treated like that very ugly teddy bear that the entire family wants to replace but doesn’t have the heart to do so. I was glad. Had they opened it, it would have been an entirely different story. 

It wasn’t just water in the container. I had added some soil from Lucy’s flowerpots, some ashes (don’t ask where I got it from, just don’t) and blood. 

When the time came, I spilled the entire thing onto the floor, snuggled into the blanket and pretended to sleep.

With my eyes closed, the feeling of every single death was amplified. Some were my guards, others were not. I could tell that they fought viciously. For every death of a guard, there were two or three deaths of strangers. 

I would love to be able to save them, but I couldn’t. I was being realistic. I only had Death and the element of surprise on my side. Taking on all the enemies at once, while working around the guards was way beyond my skill-set for the moment. Sometimes being a baby was inconvenient.

When the door to my room quietly swung open, there were only two intruders left. They were so focused on my little figure, lying there defenseless on the bed, that they failed to notice the deadly surprise.

Over the darkness of the floor, a black liquid slithered over to the uninvited guests. It went unnoticed. There was no reaction as it surrounded their boots from all sides. None at all when it slithered up. By the time it reached their skin, it was already too late.

The blood-drenched intruders let out twin gasps of dismay and collapsed onto the floor. The next few minutes could only be described as everlasting agony, only made worse by the small, giggling figure watching them from the safety of the bed.

It was their end.

When victory was almost in their hands.

Failure was a bitter feeling.


	36. The Battle of Wills

Chapter 36. The Battle of Wills

Lucifer was restless.

He didn’t want to show any of his comrades what he was truly feeling. They needed to see a true leader. An anchoring rock, a figurehead with a steel spine. And he was all those things combined. But the most important and most defining factors of his being were not those that made him a warrior and a leader.

He was a mother.

He remembered when he found out about his condition. It was after one of their one-night-stands with Michael. They have had the same love/hate relationship for eons. One thing it definitely was, was stable. 

He never told anyone his true reasons for falling. He was the most beautiful, not the strongest. That title went to Michael. And he knew it.   
When the Creator was still involved in the lives of the Heavenly Host, Lucifer had the opportunity to flaunt his beauty, to experience the world and its delights, to be free. Relatively. But looking into his elder brother’s eyes every single day he could see that his time as a free creature was coming to an end. 

The moment the Creator loses interest, the moment he abandons the angels like his previous creations, Lucifer would lose his protection. But he would lose much more than that. He would lose his ‘freedom’. Worse, he would lose himself.

The sad thing was that angels didn’t have free will. Not truly. They were made to be the powerful instruments of the will of the Creator. Nothing else. Nothing more. Only the archangels were different. They truly were made as God’s children. Literally. They had a sense of self. A semblance of free will. Which ended the moment the Creator would give them an order. 

But that was better than the fate of their younger siblings. Those had the tiniest speck of personality that was purely themselves, while the rest was all a shared consciousness that was the will and mind of many and none at all. The Heavenly Host.

Lucifer’s biggest fear was that Michael would be named the successor. That he would have the power to do anything and not have to face the consequences of his actions. He was scared for the world, but more so, he was terrified for himself.

And so he started planning. Scheming behind closed doors. Finding the misfits, the thinkers, the dreamers, the diamonds in the dirt. The rebels. 

Now that he thinks back to those times, he thinks that the Creator knew. Everything. His fears, his plans, his hopes, his dreams. But he was never punished. His Father just looked at him with that all-knowing way of his with a deep sadness hidden somewhere within his eyes.  
When the humans were created, Lucifer saw his chance. Such ugly, short-lived creatures. But their imperfection was just. For they had the biggest gift of them all. They had the potential to leave their golden cage of a garden and be truly free.

Amusingly enough he met Lilith when she was still mortal. Maybe the real reason that he helped her escape her wifely duties wasn’t due to his internal wickedness. Maybe he, like some romantic fledgling wished that someday, someone powerful would come along and protect him. That he wouldn’t have to tolerate his elder brother’s unwanted touch and hear his twisted ideas of a happily-ever-after where he becomes voice-less arm candy. Where he wouldn’t have to lose anymore of himself to another’s desires.

With his support, she made her displeasure known. She would scream, she would rage and she would throw things at the pest that was named her husband. The insect was scared to approach her after she almost clawed his eyes out during his attempts to initiate intercourse. She had won.

But not for long. The slug dared to complain to the Creator. That the wife he was promised was meant to be sweet and kind. That she wasn’t meant to have opinions. That she wasn’t meant to say no. Instead he had been landed with a raging bitch that was ungrateful to her betters. That Lilith was damaged goods.

His first human friend was then cursed to become a demon. She looked happier for it. She started an amusing game where she bedded as many beings as she could. But for all her attempts to plan their happy-ever-after with a million demon babies, she was never serious about it. After all, who would want to permanently tie down a demoness that held a blazing torch for a man of his caliber? So with that mask in place, she was finally free. Free from the golden cage that was Eden.

Then he met her replacement. 

The creator obviously took Adam’s complaints to heart. The new ‘first’ woman was a very pretty but dumb little thing. She didn’t have an ounce of character. It was dreadful. Where Lilith was a spitfire of rage at the thought of having to lie with the entitled brat that was the first man just because the Creator deemed all women forever inferior, Eve didn’t voice a single complaint. It was as if she was a doll with her vocabulary consisting of yes and of course. It was pathetic. 

Turning into a serpent and getting the mortals kicked out of the garden is a memory that continues to amuse him to this day. 

What he couldn’t understand was that for getting thrown out of Eden, Adam blamed Lilith, Lucifer, his new wife, all women in existence, but never himself. If that slug knowingly didn’t heed the only warning he was given and kept blaming others for his mistakes, getting thrown out of the garden was the least he deserved.

Therefore, when brought forward before the Creator for once again interfering with his pet experiment, Lucifer spoke his mind. He was tired. He could see that their Father was moving on towards the new baby, the humans. His heart no longer had any space for his angels. He would rather be struck down as himself, than turn into an immortal characterless copy of Eve. 

But the Creator did something unexpected. Yes, he struck him and all his supporters down. But as he fell, Lucifer felt the always-present collar loosening until it completely disappeared from its permanent spot upon his neck. He was finally free. His future decisions were only his own.


	37. The baby bundle

Chapter 37. The baby bundle

For all the planning, they were still unprepared. They were completely alone in the world with no home and no support. The time during which they had to seek refuge in Hell is something that still consistently appears in in his nightmares. 

The most difficult times were just after their fall. Funnily enough, someone’s tragedy turned into another’s biggest advantage. They didn’t know it yet, but after throwing them down from Heaven, the Creator left. He didn’t name a successor, didn’t state a reason. That didn’t stop the majority of the Heavenly Host laying the blame at his feet. The battle was inevitable. 

He knew that they didn’t stand a chance against the united Heavenly armies as they were. But what the Creator’s departure did, was give them time. Time to lick their wounds, time to find a home, time to prepare. When the first confrontation occurred, they were ready. 

While he had absolutely no desire to resume any kind of interaction with Michael, he knew it was inevitable. If anything, it would give those who fell with him some more time. And for a while it worked. For all that his brother called him a sinful, disgusting whore that has been tarnished by disobedience and the touch of demons, for all that he hit him across the face, he never said no to having his body. But no matter how hard he tied to placate himself, it made him feel filthy afterwards with that consistent feeling that no matter how much he scrubbed himself, he could still feel Michael’s disgusting touch.

Before the incident, things were steadily improving. 

Firstly, they had moved to Edom, and while it was no Heaven, it was also no Hell. And although he hated Hell with a vengeance, he wouldn’t do anything different. There, he met Greater Demons that would later become his closest allies and friends. 

Shortly before the event that changed his entire life, they had just secured and relocated to the newly-dubbed Unseelie Realm. Their support was growing, everything seemed to be going well… Maybe that should have been his warning. 

A few days after his last encounter with Michael, his power began to behave strangely. He was never one to neglect his health, so it didn’t take long to find the cause. 

At first, he was in a surprised stupor, then he was angry. Out of all the creatures in the many worlds… He would honestly rather have a babe with a human that with HIM! But for all his intense dislike of the other parent, he couldn’t blame the child. He could even find himself falling deeper in love with the idea with every passing day. He just hoped that he could have his child in peace and keep the news from Michael. But it was not to be. 

However strong he was, but Michael was stronger. He couldn’t shield the cause when the other started losing energy through the parent/child connection. While he had hoped that his secret wouldn’t be out too soon, he was prepared for the difficult conversation, prepared to share the babe, prepared to play nice with Heaven. But fate had other plans.

He truly wasn’t ready for the intense pain of losing a child. Of having the tiny being snuffed out before it could draw a single breath. Of having its energy viciously torn out of the balanced synthesis with his own. So he held on to the disintegrating little creature, shoved his pride down and begged.

He didn’t care who heard him, he just cared that someone did. He knew that this child was as good as dead. But he didn’t want offspring with Michael. Given the choice, any father would be better than THAT. He just wanted a child. His child.

He didn’t know how long his pleas continued. He was almost ready to give up. The realization that it was gone was ringing in his ears. But just as he was about to let go, he felt something. It was the bone-chill of the Void. The coldness of the dead. And then he knew nothing.  
When he woke up, he recalled the previous events with the utmost clarity. His baby was gone. Dead. Forever. He felt the bone-chilling end himself. He hugged the pillow and a single tear slid down his cheek.

But then he felt something. Something from within himself. It was a power with some similarity to the crushing embrace of death from before. And it was in panic. 

For a moment he couldn’t believe it. His prayers were heard! His baby was alive again. He reached out to that little power and wrapped it in his metaphorical embrace. In that moment, he didn’t care that the little being inside him wasn’t the initial babe he carried, that it was much more mature and conscious than an unborn child. He didn’t care. It was his baby. HIS. And no one would take his child away from him again.

And when he held his babe in his arms for the first time, looking into eyes the color of true Death, he vowed to himself that he would love his child with all his heart forevermore.


	38. The battle of battles

Chapter 38. The battle of battles

With every single day that he spent with little Haru, Lucifer fell more in love with being a parent. From his adorable little squeaks, to the tiny wings and the button nose. His Harriel was the most beautiful child in existence.

He didn’t let himself ponder on Haru’s other parent. Didn’t let himself think that he didn’t get to name his child. After all, his name suits him so well. 

On one hand, Harriel was much more serious than a normal babe. He could clearly convey his opinions straight from birth. But in most ways, he was still a young child, with a young soul. Treating him any different for it was not something Lucifer considered.

But for all that little Haru was a true babe, there were moments that deviated from norm. When his child would watch him with that serious look of his. Some of his actions were a surprise, but Lucifer accepted Haru with all his differences from a normal baby angel. But for all his acceptance, he never allowed himself to forget that there were things he didn’t know, might never know about his child and he was fine with that. After all, everyone has secrets.

It was because of this that Lucifer didn’t protest when Haru gave him a parting gift. A small stake that smelt of blood and death. And when his child told him to always keep it on himself, that it was his absolutely last chance to keep up his sleeve, he didn’t argue.

Now, upon the battlefield, surrounded by bodies of enemies and friends, he remembered Haru’s delightful smile, his laugh, his first word. Being at the other end of Michael’s sword and fists, listening to how he would have him as a captive to show him his place, he took his chance. He didn’t hesitate.

When his brother had pretty much defeated him and was spewing lies of how his most loyal team had gotten to Haru. How they took their merry time in killing him. How he had nothing left. Lucifer didn’t believe him. For all that Michael sounded confident in his words, Lucifer’s link to his child was as strong as ever. Haru was safe.

But while the words were yet untrue, didn’t mean that Michael didn’t commit this atrocity. Didn’t mean that he didn’t send anyone after Haru. It just meant that his team had either been defeated by Haru’s guard or have yet to attack. So when Michael leaned down in his overconfidence and belief in his invulnerability, Lucifer took his chance.

His sword has beyond his reach. As well as any of his other weapons. Truly, it’s not like any of them would have any effect on his enemy beyond a temporary flesh wound. In that moment he didn’t think. He grabbed the stake from his sleeve and drove it thru Michael’s left eye. Nothing happened. Michael’s other eye twitched with annoyance. He ripped the stake out.

Lucifer felt dread. He truly hoped for a miracle, but nothing had happened. Although he put his faith into his baby’s gift, the fact that it didn’t work wasn’t his fault. After all, Haru was just a young child that wanted to help their parent stay safe. Sadly, a wound so insignificant would heel almost instantly. 

Michael opened his mouth to spew another vicious taunt, but no words came out. Instead, he let out a chocking rasp. A tremor shook his body as he fell to his knees. Black worms appeared to be sliding underneath his skin. Then he started coughing. It was an unpleasant sound. A terrifying, wet sound as disgusting black tar dripped from his eyes, nose and mouth. 

With a last wheezing cough, Michael collapsed. 

Around them, the fighting had completely stopped, for the armies witnessed a historical event. The death of an archangel. The first and most powerful one of them all.

Lucifer had won.

But as he lost consciousness, he could swear he could see a cloaked, black-haired, green-eyed figure cutting down Michael with a scythe. He had just looked Death in the face and lived to tell the tale. As for the resemblance with his precious child? That is not something he would ever speak of. 

Meanwhile, an invisible Death looked upon the battlefield with a satisfied smile, which turned into a disgusted grimace upon noticing the shocked essence of Michael floating in the wind. He lifted his scythe, and cut the pest’s being down. Forevermore, it is thereby erased from existence. He would not allow one who sought to harm his child a second chance. Ever.

Before leaving, Death turned to look at the unconscious figure at his feet. Truly, regardless of what he told Harry, he wasn’t completely certain as to how the being would take the replacement of his child. Or even whether they would accept Harry. They could have had the worst kinds of clashing personalities or mutual distrust, but instead, they have made each other happy. Now he is certain that that day, Death had made the right decision.

Meanwhile the shocked angels and demons looked upon the blood-stained battlefield. Michael’s body was rapidly disintegrating to ashes along with the innocent-looking stake that no one truly took any note of.


	39. Hide-and-Seek

Chapter 39. Hide-and-Seek

Harry let out one last giggle. The way those morons writhed on the floor was just hilarious. He could not believe that they just stood there.   
Now that that was finally over, it was time to hide. There was no knowing if there are any sentinels outside. It isn’t safe to leave. So he will stay. But he would not be easy to find.

After all, the safe house is the first place Lucy would look for him. Over-complicating things by hiding in the wilderness is ridiculous…

Sitting beneath a table within the entrance hall, Harry had to cover his mouth with his little hands to prevent the laughter from escaping. Due to the concealing runes he had thoroughly carved into the underside of his sanctuary as well as the surrounding floor, his presence was now undetectable. 

The frantic second team of intruders was tearing the place down looking for him. The best hiding spot is once more proven to be before the seeker. The enemies tore down his room, emptied every single chest and cupboard. Looked under every single bed. Other than the dried soil they found, nothing could explain the deaths of their brothers in arms. How were they supposed to know that they were looking at the remains of a necro-golem? 

Sadly, such creations of necromancy had finite lives, only remaining functional until the liquid base evaporates. They also had very low intellect, literally having one state of mind in which they kill everything in their vicinity except their creator and those of his blood.

Eventually, the despairing team came to the conclusion that the safe house was a trap, that either the child had been promptly evacuated, somehow escaped or was never there in the first place. One thing Harry has glad for, was that they didn’t torch the safe house after leaving.  
He didn’t know how much time had passed. He didn’t care. As a baby sort-of angel he didn’t require food, just some energy from mature angels or demons. The only thing that mattered was the contently humming connection between his mother. As long as it was there, everything was fine. He was safe.

The only thing that felt any different was the death of a very powerful immortal. It rang through the adjacent worlds. Through every sensitive being. The last statement was truly a scream of utmost agony. Michael was dead.

Lucifer is victorious. 

With that last piece of news, Harry finally let himself drift off to sleep for the first time in a very long time. Now he could only wait.   
He closed his eyes with a happy smile on his lips.


	40. Playing Limbo

Chapter 40. Playing Limbo

…And opened his eyes to an endless terrain of white.  
That’s when the panic hit.

Did I die?

How did I die?

Was I found?

Was I cut down in my sleep?

Were my wards noticed?

Truly, I felt like an idiot, letting down my guard, letting myself believe that everything was over. Being overconfident in my safety.  
And then I saw a familiar figure. 

“Death! What the hell?”

For a moment my father regarded me with a somber expression. Then his lips twitched and slid into a smile.  
“Relax Harry you are not dead. Just sleeping. Did I somehow forgot to mention that I could communicate with you this way?”

I could literally feel my eye twitch and felt the childish desire to stomp my foot.  
“You didn’t!”

Death seemed to be struggling with something for a second. Then he burst into laughter.  
“This isn’t funny!”

“It really is. You look like a sulky, winged chipmunk.” Death choked out after finding his voice.

“I do not!”

“You do.”

“Do not!”

“Do too.”  
That’s when I noticed I was short. I had the proportions of a toddler.

“Death why the Hell am I in my baby body?”

“Well Harry, you see, everyone in death changes to represent their ‘inner you’ so to speak. At your current level of maturity it is no surprise that your subconsciousness decided to revert your age so that your outward physical body correlates with the mental…”

With that little bombshell, Death looked at me with his knowing, patronizing smile. I hated it. 

Then I processed what he had just said.   
“Did you just imply that I am an immature dimwit?”

“Well, I am not the one who has said it.”  
With that little phrase, he disappeared on me.

I felt cheated. I had just been given a legitimate reason to be angry and he just leaves! Not fair!  
“Death come back here right this instant! It won’t hurt too much I swear. Even if it does, you know you totally deserve it!”

(Infinite amount of time later...)

I was still fuming.

How dare he?

How could he?

I am not immature!

I am not!

Not a baby!

My lip started to tremble. There was only so much I could do to stop myself from throwing a tantrum. That would prove him right.

But who cares?

It doesn’t matter!

He left!

I am alone!

All ALONE!

Then I burst into tears.


	41. Biodiversity in detail

Chapter 41. Biodiversity in detail

I came back to by senses with the feeling of a steady embrace. It was cold, but I didn’t mind. Even though Death had deliberately goaded me, I still behaved like a typical child. 

I am so embarrassed.

I looked up into his eyes, so similar to my own.

“Harry, are you alright? I didn’t expect you to actually burst into tears, you know.”  
Death had the sense to look guilty.

“I am fine now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If I was in my physical body, I would have said that it’s the hormones, but I don’t have that excuse. My questionable mental state worries me.”

“Harry, you must understand that when you got reborn, you became a genuine child. Had you been reborn as a human then perhaps you could have had your adult mental capabilities for the ride. As it is, your current body has a much higher ‘weight’ you could say than your previous one. This ‘weight’ basically explains how much influence a single individual could have on reality. For example, a single plant has a low ‘weight’ whereas for all the plants in a world combined have a value that is exponentially higher. If one plant dies, it won’t matter. If all the plants disappear, it would have a drastic impact on everything. 

The scale goes like this: plants, animals, vanilla humans, magic users, magical beings, half-bloods of divine beings, lower tier divine beings (demons and angels), higher tier divine beings (gods, archangels and greater demons) and Entities. 

When you had been Harry Potter, you were born as a magic user, while powerful but still within the category. By the time you had died, you were magical being. Had you not killed yourself, you would have found yourself to be immortal and slowly progressing in category and power. The process could have taken millennia to complete. 

In this case, with your reincarnation you had basically found yourself skipping categories into being a half-blood of a higher tier divine being and an Entity. So while at the peak of your power you would be somewhere between the top two categories. Perhaps even becoming a low-power Entity yourself. 

With this said, your new body has a higher ‘weight’ than your mind, therefore your mind ended up being influenced by the body.   
Also, you are actually in my realm in physical form. As a divine being you can be at two places at once. So one Haru is sleeping soundly while the other is in Limbo with me. You are one of the rare beings that can cross into this realm while still alive. Limbo is basically a gateway to the realm of the dead.”

“So I could be in two places at the same time?”  
I was excited. I wish I had that kind of skill while still going to mundane school. All that free time…

“Yes Harry. But be serious. Don’t pretend like you are not asking this to cause more mischief.”

I could feel my lips slipping into a pout. Why can he read me like a book?  
“I wasn’t…”

“You so were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Were. And I am not arguing about this.

There is another point I have to make in relation to the categories. I must stress that offspring between beings that are more than one category apart is not recommended. Half-bloods born of such unions when they are even possible are usually barren. The mother or the carrier parent usually dies during the birth. 

Also, even if you are only one category apart, you must consider the consequences. For one, just remember Hagrid.”

I felt like a tomato. Did Death just give The Talk?  
“What the hell Death! I am a toddler! How is that even relevant?”

“Well I wouldn’t know. Time is an insignificant factor in my existence. It is possible that the next time I see you, this conversation would have been long overdue.  
Even though the interactions between lower creatures are all the same to me, even I have noticed that those that surround you are surprisingly active. I am afraid how their mannerisms shall rub off on you.”

“Bunnies, Death. They are all bunnies. But they are not contagious. I think.”


	42. Death’s Champion vs Fate

Chapter 42. Death’s Champion vs Fate

“So, what did you actually want to talk about?”

There was a long moment of silence. I could tell whatever my new father has to say, I wouldn’t like it.  
“I would like to give you my congratulations. Lucifer killed Michael. He used your gift to do so. He avoided his pre-written Fate. Let’s just say she isn’t very happy with me at the moment. Now, the key events of this world may never occur or happen differently. 

You are the official child and champion of death. Fate has no hold on you and therefore has very little to no influence on those you keep close. 

If you come across a written string of someone’s destiny, you would be able to feel it and even interfere as long as your interference ends in a death.

Initially, the demons and Fallen would only had the three demonic realms in their grasp, out which only two are habitable. In this instance, Lucifer’s side has won. They have signed a treaty by which angels only have ownership of Heaven and are forbidden from direct interference. 

It is possible that in the future, I may ask you to fulfill some tasks for me, but it will only be necessary if mortals attempt to escape death. It shouldn’t happen too often.

Although the future will not be a smooth and predictable thing, I believe that you would find it much better to that of your previous world.  
I think that is all for today. You can probably go back to sleep. When you wake up, you will be safe.”

I was a bit surprised at the abrupt change in tone, especially when I still had questions.  
“Death…  
What was my fate? You had never actually clearly stated what awaited me.”

My father didn’t look too happy with my questions.  
“Harry, believe me there are some things you are better off not knowing. For all intents and purposes your fate was written only until the defeat of Riddle by your hand and your marriage to Ginny Weasley. Everything after that was extremely vague. In any kind of future, you became the ‘Master of Death’ and were the last ever Peverell.

Because of your evolution, the Weasley would have had to be at least a necromancer to survive the conception of a child between yourselves. In any case, none of the resulting three children from your marriage would have been yours. They would not have inherited any Potter/Black/Peverell magics due to being offspring of a blood-traitor even if you blood-adopted them. The line of my descendants would have ended with your death. Either way you would have ended up in the In-Between as the Master of Death.

The only reason why you could disrupt your destiny so early was because of your heritage. Right now you cannot grasp what power is contained in the Will of those with blood of the Entities. Even Divine beings are subjected to Fate’s games. Their only difference from mortals in this instance is that they can tell when they are effected.

The real change is your character. Experiences shape you. Due to your decisions, you have not a single naive bone in your body and no self-sacrificing behavior that was meant to develop due to Dumbledore’s plans.”

“Oh…”

Then he smiled at me and faded away.


	43. Mama duck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of part 2

Chapter 43. Mama duck

Did he just brush me off?

He totally did!

How dare he!

(An internal dialogue later)

That’s when I realized that the endless white that surrounded me had gradually faded into blackness. Just great! He not only left, he kicked me out!

With an effort, I opened my eyes.

I was still hiding under the table.

And Lucy was sitting just across from me, intensely staring in my direction.

For a moment I thought that he could see me, but that was not the case. His eyes were blankly looking ahead. 

Lilith was staring at him as if he had lost his mind.  
“Don’t look at me that way. I can feel him through our link. He is around here somewhere. I swear.”

Lilith didn’t look convinced.  
“Luc, if he was here he would have come out already. You are delusional. This is what happens when you prematurely ditch the healers. Let’s get you fixed up properly before doing anything.”

I couldn’t handle the devastated look on Lucy’s face. I jumped at him and hung on like a baby koala.

We ended up hitting the bystanders.

What can I say?

Puppy piles are amazing.


	44. Part 3: Metaphorically Blonde

Part 3  
Chapter 44. Metaphorically Blonde

Alec was annoyed. 

Very annoyed.

Furious actually.

If anyone asked around, all his acquaintances would have said that such is his normal state. Unfortunately, that’s what all of them were. Acquaintances. No one, not his parents, siblings or his parbati knew the real Alexander Lightwood. None truly knew him or had any idea what was hidden within the dark depths beneath the stormy surface of his attitude. 

From a young age Alec was alone. To his disgraced parents that truly thought that he didn’t remember what they had done, he was a means to an end. A way to get into the good graces of the Clave. 

Truly, getting smacked across the face by his own mother for asking about the pretty blond friend of hers that came by when he was little was very eye opening. Adults really disregard children and their memory. He remembered Idris. Their mansion. The servants that ran to fulfill his parents’ every wish. The glamorous parties they hosted. The secret meetings. Valentine. Everything. Even their trial. Especially their trial.

Being trialed as an adult in toddler-hood was terrifying. Understanding now, how easily he could have been put to death along with his traitorous parents is troubling. At that time, the lives of all Lightwoods had hung by a thread.

He could forgive his parents their behavior. Their venomous attitude. Their pride. He knew that they had gone through a life changing experience. But what he couldn’t understand or accept were their delusional ambitions. 

His mother’s deepest desire was to once again shine in the ballrooms. To become the queen bee of the hive. Have all those that turned away from her flock her once more. To envy her for her marriage to a pure and powerful bloodline of the Lightwoods. To forget the necessity of being a field-active Shadowhunter like a fleeting nightmare. 

His father wanted to have his political power back. Perhaps to turn back time. To never marry his Trueblood wife. He never wished for or understood love. Pure blood was what mattered. Power mattered. Beauty mattered. Ambitions mattered. Once upon a time he had married the woman after his own heart. One as ambitious and ruthless as himself. While they didn’t have love, they had common goals. That was enough. Until it wasn’t. Until she dragged him into a rebellion led by her coveted love. They had failed. And now their precious Lightwood name has been drug thru the mud.

What his parents seemed to forget and downright ignore was that they had lost very little in comparison. Where nameless Shadowhunters were executed for treason, they were only exiled. They retained their power due to their lineage and connections. They basically got a slap on the wrist. They were placed to lead an institute. But for them it wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.

Now that he was old enough, they were always in Alicante. Always away. All the endless work associated with running the Institute was heaped onto him. If they had their way, Max would grow up to be the perfect heir, Isabelle would be married off to some pureblood family to secure connections, and he would be quietly married to some huntress who would close her eyes to his ‘disgrace’ in return for the Lightwood family name.

But he was not a puppet. 

Would never be a marionette on strings.

He wasn’t stupid.

He wasn’t sharp-tongued but air-headed Izzy that thought that everything was going to be alright.

But now his sister and parbati have dragged a red-headed bimbo of questionable abilities and a mundane into the Institute. An Institute he was responsible for. 

Truly, the stupidity of his family was priceless. They just heaped their issues onto him and didn’t ever stop to think.

Why has no one come down on our heads for not following protocols? For messed up missions? Who polishes the reports to make everything seem perfect?

Really, Jace was something else. He was a true example of brains vs brawn. And Izzy just encouraged him.

On days like this, Alec wanted to scream.


	45. Entitled Red Riding Hood

Chapter 45. Entitled Red Riding Hood

Clary was gorgeous.

She knew it, and so did everyone else.

Her beautiful ivory skin, the ruby hair…

She was truly the epitome of perfection.

Every morning she would begin her day looking in the mirror. How could someone not appreciate those doe eyes? That mysterious smile?   
The kissable lips?

Why would she have to strive for something when all she had to do was ask? Or just hint? When everything she wanted was then handed to her on a silver platter? When her mother and Luke tried their best just to see her smile?

She always got the most sought-after and expensive toys, later clothes, tech and jewelry. The girls at school hung onto her every word as if it was gospel. While boys shyly followed her around catering to her every whim wary to not overstep their bounds to not give advantage to the competition. 

When Simon, her ‘friend’ followed her about like a lovesick puppy?

It was hilarious that everyone thought she was a sweet and oblivious child. That she didn’t know. Why would she over-complicate things? When verbally recognizing Simon’s crush might give him a sense of entitlement. When she can reap the benefits and have none of the responsibilities acknowledgement would bring?

Now that she has found out she was special, why would she need him? Simon is now a hindrance. A mundane. She doesn’t need him to do her homework anymore. Or his hacking skills. Or as a plus one that would be desperate to go anywhere ‘as a friend’.

She is a Shadowhunter.

She is special.

Now she just has to find her mother to reclaim her birthright. 

There is no way that she would be satisfied as a common hunter. The cannon fodder.

She knows she is special.

The best-case scenario would be to find out that she is some missing pureblood heir. But being realistic, a contingency plan would not be amiss.

She has now met two pureblood heirs.

Alec Lightwood keeps glowering at her with poorly concealed animosity and has a younger brother. Izzy had mentioned that their parents spoil Max rotten. It would not be the first time that the favorite child was named the heir instead of the oldest. Wasting her effort and charm on him without the definite promise of rewards seems to be excessive.

Whereas Jace Wayland is another story. An only child and heir without any relatives that would tell her what to do. He is attractive while not being the brightest bulb in the box. In her case, that would be a benefit. While he is obviously a womanizer, if she plays her cards right he would be eating out of the palm of her hand in no time at all. 

Playing hard to get with the promise of more it is then.

This Red Riding Hood will catch herself the right wolf.

After all, she deserves the best.

Clary Fray is the epitome of perfection.  
But those who knew Valentine Morgenstern would notice that the apple didn’t fall that far from the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some insight on Clary. If you like her, read the books/ watch the series again. It was always 'We have to recover MY memories', 'We have to save MY mom', 'MY boyfriend is dead! DO SOMETHING!'. Even if she doesn't explicitly say it, that's what she means most of the time. It's hardly subtle.
> 
> She acts like she is entitled to everything and that the people around her should drop whatever they are doing and get involved in her next dumb idea that is likely to blow up in their face. And the surprising thing is that is what everyone around her does.
> 
> So basically the classic muggleborn mentality. 
> 
> 'I am new to this world and know nothing about it, but I definitely know better than everyone else. I am special so I am not going to change myself but the world around me must do so to accommodate my needs.'


	46. Resident Evil

Chapter 46. Resident Evil

Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern going by Sebastian Verlac for the moment was bored.

It was a first for him.

Compared to his life, his sister’s misadventures were children’s tales.

How no one had noticed her true nature beneath the innocent-and-pure exterior was beyond him. Her and Jace’s pseudo-incestuous relationship dilemma could be solved with a single DNA test. More than likely it wasn’t the possible incest that bothered her. If Jace’s origins were under question and if not a Wayland, the chance of him being a pureblood heir was slim. 

So husband-hunting season was open once more.

Falling into the risk category was something he didn’t expect. But then again pureblood heir – check (both alias and reality), physically attractive – check, single – check.

Let’s just say that being kissed by his own sister was most definitely not on his to do list. That day earned its place in his nightmares. Toothpaste and mouthwash had never been so appreciated.

When he was young, his life was a never-ending nightmare of torture and cruelty. His so-called father wanted the unobtainable. Better, faster and stronger hunters. He seemingly succeeded in Jace, while Jonathon was a failure. A disgrace.

Receiving a Warlock heir was an unfortunate surprise. 

What else Valentine expected to get when adding demonic genetic material to his child, Jonathon would never know. 

After getting a last beating and being deemed a complete failure, Jonathon was devastated when he was handed off to Lilith. His real mother apparently. Still a child, not yet a teenager he didn’t expect any good things to happen to him.

And they didn’t. Not really. 

Even though life in Edom was far better than his life on Earth, he wasn’t prepared for a life among demons. The power play. The games of immortals. 

His mother didn’t know what to do with him. He wasn’t a baby anymore. He was broken, abused and brainwashed. He had been raised in a household where Shadowhunters were deemed superior and everything Other, especially demons, were trash. He was a taint to his father’s noble and pure line. Something like him should not exist.

To give her credit, although Lilith was an irresponsible nymphomaniac she was an exponentially better parent than Valentine. But at the rate things were going, he would have grown to be a vengeful and murderous psychopath.

That was before Harriel.

A lot of things in his life boiled down to Harriel.


	47. How to party

Chapter 47. How to party

After the victory of the ‘Dark’ side, every demon and Fallen was caught in the mass euphoria. I had been so grateful for being a baby, otherwise instead of gaining a library of blackmail material on everyone, I would have participated in the chaos. 

Although missing the wildest after party of eons due to young age restrictions was rather upsetting.  
Many premature and irresponsible decisions were made, but everyone was having the time of their lives.  
But then again, maybe playing drunk poker for Realm dominions in-between the Fallen and Greater Demons was not the best strategy. 

The Seelie and Unseelie Realms were divided among the winners. Obviously Lucy and I got first dibs (Cheat! But I love him ‘cause he got the other half the realm as my parent and representative for me). The Unseelie world is now officially home-sweet-home.

Apparently, Azazel and Samuel got the Seelie Realm split between themselves, but they were actually never there. They are like those weird uncles that start gradually accumulating their stuff at your place and before you know it, they end up moving in onto your couch. We didn’t have the heart to tell them to go away.

Lilith and Asmodeus landed Edom. Apparently, they decided to elope and rule together for eternity. But then again that must have been the alcohol talking. Let’s just say that when they sobered up and woke up in the same bed, it was the scandal of the century.

The rest of the inner circle Greater Demons got dibs on ‘Nine Circles of Hell’. Considering how ecstatic they were to not have to share house with Lilith OR Asmodeus, I think they were most grateful for their inferior poker skills.  
I can say I had a happy childhood this time around. The posturing and power play among the fallen and demons is annoying. But it is known that in any argument and dispute, I am Switzerland. Pretty much everyone knows that involving me means involving Lucifer. Although there are idiots that never got the memo, but that’s just good riddance. But just because I don’t get directly involved, doesn’t mean that I don’t involve myself at all. I had the best of teachers after all. Truly, learning to play the games of immortals was not a matter of if, but when.


	48. Shadowhunters

Chapter 48. Shadowhunters

An age had passed.

New races came about.

It is hilarious, really.

Mortals call all of us Other and anything residing in the Seelie and Unseelie realms ‘The Fae’. 

Anything that doesn’t fit inside their perfect black’n’white square box. 

That’s mundanes for you. 

Shadowhunters are worse.

Don’t even get me started on Shadowhunters.

Those bigots should have never been created in the first place.

The ignorant upstarts just label everything non-human Downworlders. 

If only some upstart angel by the name of Raziel wasn’t stupid enough to willingly feed mortals his blood. Or maybe he was smart. Or a scapegoat. Perhaps it was all a divine plan set in motion by his superiors. 

Because of the treaty, angels could not directly interfere with mortals. They couldn’t just give them orders or raze cities to the ground for bad behavior.

But when a religious nutcase, Jonathon Shadowhunter summoned and begged an angel for a way to fight demons, the Angelic Host gained a loophole. After all, mortals have free will. It was all the pest’s own decision.

To say that Lucifer was furious is an understatement.

Now that Shadowhunters weren’t human, having angelic blood running through their veins they were vanilla humans no longer. They could now be influenced and tossed onto the board as pawns in the greater game. 

However, while foul play was suspected, nothing could be proven. By the time the incident was brought to our attention and investigated Raziel had already disappeared. It is more than likely that the poor thing suffered a lethal ‘accident’ by the hands that had given him orders.   
Luckily, for all that Shadowhunters were called Nephilim, they had nothing on the true-born. While a true Nephilim birthed by a Fallen or an Angel was dubbed an immortal ancestor of the Fae capable of great feats of magic, Shadowhunters were a washed-out parody.

They were weaker. Squib-like in magic power (meaning they could still use potions, rituals and runes). They had issues naturally procreating just like the Fae (which could live for millennia without having children), making them reliant on the Mortal Cup which became essential to maintain the population. And above all, they were mortal.

To give them credit, the first generations of Shadowhunters attempted to uphold their morals, to protect their homes and loved ones by hunting rogue demons that came to prey on their villages. Unfortunately, soon enough they created their own cooped up society, separate from the mundanes. After all, even with their minniscule power levels, they no longer fit in among mankind.  
Thus, the Shadowhunters made the same mistake as the wizards of my last world. 

In isolation, with no mundanes to show their skills off to, their society developed the ideas of pureblood superiority. After all, the great lines of Fairchild, Morgenstern, Lightwood, Wayland, Trueblood and Herondale produced hunters that were superior to those turned upstarts that were ignorant mundanes just yesterday. But then again no matter how weak or pathetic the turned Shadowhunters are, they are most superior to mundanes, while anything Other is at the level of dirt in comparison. 

When a demon breeds with a human, you get a Warlock, which are basically an immortal but sterile species of magic using beings. Interestingly, if a human consumes demon instead of angelic blood, you get an abomination. A Forsaken in most cases. 

But that didn’t stop the experiments.

The best results were gained in the creation of vampires and werewolves where a magical curse was involved along with the blood transfusion. In both cases the human victims succumb to highly contagious demonic viruses where one leads to a reaction to the sun and a state of immortal undeath while the other results in a dependency to moon cycles while retaining mortality. In my personal opinion, compared to werewolves, vampires have drawn the long straw. A continuous state of PMS while remaining mortal is not worth the resulting supernatural powers.


	49. The ramblings of a non-demon

Chapter 49. The ramblings of a non-demon

Living in the Unseelie Realms, I rarely visited Earth. But when I did, I always made my visit memorable. 

The wildest parties, the bloodiest battles, the craziest orgies…

I had seen it all (and joined in of course).

Unfortunately, those spoilsport Shadowhunters always tried to ruin my fun.

Always with the ‘Go back to Hell, Demon!’, ‘Abomination’, ‘Creature of Darkness that spreads its influence among the ignorant mundanes’…

Funnily enough, that always made things that much wilder. Truly, tearing off the heads of opponents that could actually present a slight challenge made things much more interesting.

Until this day, those idiots still believe that Lucy is imprisoned and the Heavenly Host was victorious. 

Talk about delusional.

They even dubbed me a Demon Lord, a General of Hell.

Idiots.

They couldn’t even dub me a Prince. 

I wouldn’t have taken as much insult at being called a Prince of Hell (Being a Prince of Darkness in reality) over some third rate demon general. Even being grouped under Sammael’s command didn’t help my rage.

I am a Prince damn it. 

A Prince. 

And most definitely not a demon.

‘Harriel’ doesn’t even fleetingly resemble a demonic name!

It’s more than likely that those creeps of Silent Brothers questioned their divine superiors along the lines: ‘Is Harriel one of the Fallen?’ Obviously receiving a negative response, I was dubbed a demon.

Some people just can’t use their imagination or think outside the box.


	50. Inter-Dimensional Holidays

Chapter 50. Inter-Dimensional Holidays

While spending the majority of my time in the Unseelie Realm, occasionally visiting Earth that was something of an overseas tourist site for demons, I still kept in touch with the entirety of Lucy’s inner circle.

Although the Shadowhunters are major spoilsports, it is something of a competition amongst the demons and Fallen to cause the most unforgettable and unexplainable mischief (often combined with collateral damages and casualties) in order to give the hunters a bigger headache before going back home. Considering that they are unable to land any lasting damage or kill us, just sending us back to our home Realms, visits to Earth make the most exciting holidays (where the term ‘high risk’ doesn’t exist). Basically it is a ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ mentality, with no charges or lasting consequences.

The Greater Demons (the 9 Princes of Hell with terrible poker skills) that rule the circles of Hell are wonderful companions in mischief. Hell under their guidance became something alike an elite BDSM club. While I do enjoy that kind of thing occasionally, it isn’t something that I could continue for indefinitely, so most of my visits end up as inter-dimensional drunken shenanigans that always end in the randomest Realms and weirdest places.

Currently, visits to the Seelie Realm are scarce. Although Sammael and Azazel have control of that realm, they have a very ‘hands off’ policy. All the day-to-day matters and associated unimportant paperwork are heaped onto the Seelie Fae Council made up of descendants of the Fallen which is ‘ruled’ by a chosen Fae holding a title of king or queen for the duration of their ‘rule’. Truly, although outsiders such as the Shadowhunters think that the Fae king of queen are the supreme power of the Realm, thus making all the treaties with them _null and void_ , they couldn’t be more wrong.

The entire populace is aware that the council and monarch are nothing more than figureheads with no real power whatsoever. The seeming ‘power’ of the Fae monarch could be lost with one phrase from Sammael or Azzy as many of those monarchs that had tried to rebel to gain real power learnt post-mortem.

That being said, the current Seelie Queen is a real bitch. She does her job, but unfortunately, visiting the Seelie Realm means interacting with her. It’s just not worth it. Lets just say that the moment she messes up, I will be the first to chant ‘Off with her head!’

Visits to Heaven are a synonym for a diplomatic mission. I am so glad that after that one after party I have been permanently blacklisted from any and _all_ visits to that Realm. Although I still don’t understand why they were so upset. Really, just because there was a record number of Falls since Lucy’s rebellion on that night doesn’t mean that it’s actually my fault! Statistics is pseudo-science! Who knew sexual intercourse with demons was a taboo? I certainly _didn’t_.

Coming around to Limbo is basically the equivalent of receiving the latest gossip from Death. Although if anyone knew about those I would be labelled suicidal, child of Lucifer or not.

And then there are the visits to Edom…


	51. Lilith

Chapter 51. Lilith

Regardless of my initial opinion of Lilith, she wasn’t actually that bad. 

Learning from Lucy’s experiences, I immediately designated her an immortal position in my friend zone. Lets say it was an achievement. As explaining it away as avoidance of pseudo-incest was most definitely not going to work.

She was like that crazy auntie that is always fun to hear about but is never fun to deal with.

Anyways…

Getting back to the point…

With the existence of a legitimate excuse of her and Asmodeus living in a whole different Realm, not many of the Greater Demons and Fallen actually visited them. Unless they needed something, of course. 

Well, except Lucy and I.

At first it was just Lucy, but he always dragged me along when he could get away with it.

Lets just say that it happened often and leave it at that.

It was weird. 

Lilith was like an immortal Bellatrix Lestrange with Lucy as her Voldemort. I would have thought that she would have tried to drown me in a bathtub the moment I was left unattended, but she never did. 

I honestly didn’t take divinity into account. Sometimes I still catch myself thinking alike a mortal.

There is a legitimate reason why powerful beings such as angels and demons have no such thing as fidelity. With how powerful they are, it is next to impossible to have offspring. In particular if only one partner is all there is. 

Any chicks that are begotten are raised by a large group of angels or demons that wish to experience parenthood, regardless of their parentage. Basically, all offspring is shared. Therefore, Lilith is literally something like my aunt.

But that didn’t stop any sexual advances from her.

Not at all.


	52. JC the Second (Or third?)

Chapter 52. JC the Second (Or third?)

While full-blooded angelic offspring was hard to come by, half-bloods such as the Fae are a lot more common. Eventually there were enough of them to be named their own race. But for some bizarre reason, half-demons (or Warlocks) were much rarer. Compared to half-bloods, full blooded demonic offspring were born much more often.  
But that went for low level demons.

Greater Demons were an entirely different story.

Out of all the inner circle Greater Demons, Asmodeus was the only one fortunate enough to become a parent. He spent the kid’s entire childhood running circles around the miracle that was Magnus Bane. And at first all the Greater Demons were jealous, but not for long.

For all that Magnus was powerful, for all his skills and beauty, he consciously rejected his demonic heritage. He stopped acknowledging Asmodeus as his family. He didn’t listen to advice. He focused on the negatives of a demonic existence and played pretend. Got caught up in the new trend of playing human. Of acting humane. Upholding human morals. And one thing was for certain, a human he was not.

Ironically, he didn’t understand that renouncing his demonic heritage would leave him a powerless mortal. A mundane. A mundane with many powerful enemies. But Asmodeus was never that short-sighted.

Even Lilith, who was filled with green envy for Asmodeus’s virility let her feelings fade, leaving room for pity.   
But for all that she had a negative example in her rival’s offspring, she never stopped her attempts to become a mother. And as highlighted by statistical theorems of probability, with an infinite number of trials even a blind person with the worst aim will eventually hit the bull’s eye.

And so Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was born. 

But not one of those to whom it would matter knew.

Until a priceless treasure was thrown away like yesterday’s garbage by the child’s own father.

Lilith tried to her best to act as a mother for the entirety of a week. 

Perhaps if she was of the IQ level she constantly pretended to be or was male with a pride and ego the size of the universe (99% of the male population older than a hundred) she would have continued her attempts. But she had a real example in front of her very eyes of how you DON’T do child rearing (cough, Asmodeus, cough). So she decided to call in reinforcements.

For some reason, instead of her panicked message reaching Lucifer, it reached Harriel first. (Listening in on conversations and intercepting messages is the rage this season). So being the worried distant relative and caring son that he was (cough, totally, cough), he decided to check the problem out first before dumping it on an unsuspecting Lucy. (And getting pictures for future blackmail. Lots of them).

But when he arrived to Edom, as he was heading to Lilith’s personal quarters he was ploughed over and squished beneath a lithe body. And that was how he got himself an armful of terrified Warlock/Shadowhunter hybrid along with its issues heaped onto him by a delighted Lilith.

After all it was such a wonderful opportunity.

As a loving mother it was her duty to make the most of such a unique situation. For eons Demons, Fallen Angels and other Downworlders have been trying to land themselves the Prince of Darkness. 

But not those in the inner circle. 

For all that they have all slept together, they could never view Haru as anything other than their own chick. However, arranging his happiness with their own offspring was a completely different matter. And so the game began. But so far no one has been able to hold the Prince’s interest for long. Not even Magnus Bane, the former apple of Asmodeus’s eye could hold the attention of the son of Lucifer. 

Perhaps her it would be her little darling?

Well…

In any case, whichever choices he makes, she is sure that he would do his mother proud.

He is her son after all.


	53. The bad egg

Chapter 53. The bad egg

Magnus Bane was an enigma.

How could he not be?

A being of his age, and not having a life built of secrets?

Not many thought about that. After all there were many creatures out there that are seemingly much older than the Warlock who with his measly 400 years is just a babe in immortal terms.

But what those naïve morons among the Clave, the Warlock council and even most other immortals couldn’t fathom is their own belief in a well-spun lie. And when he actually drops hints of his actual age they all just believe that he is significantly exaggerating to stroke his ego and inflate his sense of self-importance.

But Magnus?

He didn’t lie. 

Well…

More like bent the truth by dropping a zero. 

But it’s not like it’s his fault! Anyone over the age of thirty is hesitant to state their true age even among mortals. Is it really so surprising that he wants to be perceived as young-and-carefree instead of old-and-gathering-dust?

Another of his cherished but more well-known secrets was his parentage. But while he wanted to be underestimated and not be associated with a Greater Demon, it wasn’t so critical. After all, his father’s reputation as the greatest man-whore of the Downworld after Lilith and Lucifer doesn’t really give any clues on his true power. And few ever wonder by what supposedly lacking power did Asmodeus both earn and keep his position and titles.

Morons.

The lot of them.

Honestly, sometimes he wonders why did he even move here? To Earth of all the available worlds? Why did he willingly chose to deal with these idiots? And the more he wonders the more he has to admit to at least himself that him throwing a tantrum and fleeing from Edom in a fit of teenage angst (at the tender age of 3600) was a bit premature.

After all, Asmodeus always tried to give him the best everything, really. And just because they sometimes didn’t see eye to eye over what is best for Magnus doesn’t truly mean that he didn’t have his best interests at heart.

But for all that he sometimes misses his father, misses Edom, even the stupidest demonic minions on his worst days, he cannot allow himself to regret his decision. Because pretending to be a mundane-loving fool that repents and regrets everything - that denounces his heritage was the only thing that saved him from becoming just another foot-stone to Asmodeus’s ambitions.

And although Lucifer’s heir didn’t take much interest in him beyond a couple of shared nights, that didn’t mean that his father would give up on his ‘brilliant’ idea of setting up his only son with someone powerful. And because Magnus had foolishly demonstrated that he is no longer a child and thereby open to courtship it had become a very real possibility of waking up one day bonded to a Greater Demon or Fallen with a controlling streak on par with his. 

And that was a terrifying perspective.

Because just like most powerful beings, Magnus didn’t do vanilla relationships. 

Of course he was perfectly capable of having perfectly normal casual sex, but in a relationship he required control. He would never be able to stand the thought that his property, his other half, would openly disobey him on something serious or be secretly unfaithful or not completely depend on Magnus. 

And that was a problem. Because he didn’t know a single Other that he could potentially view as his. And in a relationship with those handpicked by his father? It would definitely be Magnus that would land the position of cherished property. 

So he decided to cut his losses and leave.

Before his loving but hard-headed father decided to force the issue...


	54. Ragnor Fell

Chapter 54. Ragnor Fell

Unfortunately, as a Warlock raised by his very demonic father that rarely ventured to Earth, Magnus had very little idea of what it was actually like. Because while he wasn’t an ignorant little munchkin, the last time he had been to Earth was before the collapse of the Roman Empire. 

And showing up in 17th Century Britain was different. 

But he was not without friends.

Although most Earth Warlocks were low-level trash in terms of heritage and power, there were still diamonds hidden in the dirt. 

Ragnor Fell was one of those.

And although not the most powerful of Warlocks, Ragnor had enough cunning and potential to thrive in a demonic court. 

As someone who posed for twenty years of their life as a Roman Senator who found delight in the brutality of Gladiator Fights. Someone who viciously cleared his path in order to keep the Emperor’s favour, someone who enjoyed the thrill of the battles and brutally violating his newly captured slaves, Ragnor Fell was at heart a monster on par with demons. A man after Magnus’s own heart that Magnus could barely believe could successfully and convincingly act and pretend to be the perfect British Gentleman that only holds the position of the High Warlock of London as a compromise from other interested parties due to his total lack of power and will.

Magnus had a very good laugh about that one.

Because a meek little doormat Ragnor Fell was not.

And for believing such a front, the Clave were once and for all allocated a permanent placement as idiotic laughingstock in his mind.

But it wasn’t in London that Magnus met Ragnor Fell. Or the Roman Empire. 

It was Ancient Egypt.

The first time Magnus visited Earth. 

Funnily enough, it was the only place and time where most Warlocks didn’t need to hide their marks. Offspring with inhuman features was revered as children of the gods.

Ragnor with his scaly green skin fit right in as a supposed son of Sobek. And with his Warlock powers, organizing a few miracles was simple enough. With the supposed god’s powers of fertility and virility? That just explained away all those beautiful slaves that were gifted to Ragnor never to be seen again.

And if Magnus took advantage of the trend to pose as a child of Bastet?

That is something no one has to know.

And his newfound love for cats?

Well, there must be something sweet hidden within the being of every monster. Otherwise, life just turns into a burden and immortality into a curse.


	55. If it looks like a cat, meows like a cat and acts like a cat it’s probably a...

Chapter 55. If it looks like a cat, meows like a cat and acts like a cat it’s probably a...

Moving to Earth was a shock.

Because all demons had magic. 

But humans? 

That was something in which they all lacked.

At first Magnus couldn’t even understand why would anyone want to tolerate the thick, toxic smog or the loud and filthy trains? After all portals were created for a reason…

But humans forgot.

Where once powerful Warlocks were always welcome into the courts of Lords, Kings and Emperors, where even a thousand years ago potions, rituals, and portals were something almost mundane, now anything related to magic was deemed evil witchcraft. (Thanks Shadowhunters!)

Had Magnus truly been on his own, he would have most likely stepped on many toes before he got anything right. Because hiding his magic? Nonsense! The extent of it? Yes. But abandoning his heritage and renouncing his power altogether?

Anyone that might have suggested such in his father’s court would have met a very swift and painful death.  
So thank Lucifer for Ragnor!

Even with some help, Magnus’s path to a vanilla Warlock image that loves kittens and sniffs dandelions was not a smooth road. The sappy backstory they came up with could only do so much.

But Ragnor, the wonderful friend with foresight that he is, knew that from the start. That was probably why he didn’t let him stay in or anywhere close to London after all.

Because a practicing Magnus?

Not something Ragnor wanted to experience anywhere near his territory.

In the end it turned out that even Peru wasn’t far enough. And although they had no solid proof, the events during his first visit were what eventually led to getting Magnus banned from the country for those ‘lovely’ earthquakes as it was the only thing the Warlock council could do to dissuade his continuous visits. But the situation was similar to a Chihuahua barking at a wolf. Because when comparing power? Magnus could swat them all like flies.

But after he settled he made sure to build himself an image he could use. He was playing a long game after all. No need to be rash and prematurely spook the deer. And if many fall for his goody-two-shoes exterior? Of the dark magic hating fool Magnus Bane that loves to help? That only shows one of two things, his talent as an actor or the lack of intelligence of everyone else.

The only thing he didn’t allow himself to do was to work for free. He is not a charity worker! He is half-demon! Such a stain is not something even his tarnished reputation among the Downworld could survive.

But one thing he aimed for is to never be bored. So by the 21st century, Magnus Bane was a Warlock that had his fingers in many, many pies.

Why would he bother owning a nightclub when in position of the High Warlock of Brooklyn?

Well…

Considering his parentage and association with the sin of lust, it made sense to have such a powerful power source nearby. A power source most would overlook. 

But not Magnus.

Never Magnus.


	56. Relationship Troubles

Chapter 56. Relationship Troubles

Although he often got side tracked, Magnus never forgot his true reason for being on Earth.

Finding and bonding to his other half was much more important than all the power plays in the worlds. But it was simple to say but difficult to do. He wasn’t ok with just grabbing a random creature off the streets. He had standards (even if most didn’t think so). He wanted his future mate to be the epitome of perfection.

Of course he understood the improbability of actually meeting a being that was perfect straight away. But what mattered is potential.  
The potential to change and become something better. Something perfect just for Magnus.

And if his future other half had to be subjected to some prior training and manipulation?

It was something Magnus was more than capable of providing.

His first attempt was initially a controlled failure. He never meant for it to be anything permanent. Just some practice really.

The relationship with the mundane Indonesian girl he pretended to love only lasted 30 years. He got what he wanted but getting rid of her in such a way that couldn’t be traced back to him when she started to get old despite all the potions he had fed her was an unexpected complication. 

It would have been way simpler just to break up, but the woman just couldn’t get the hint! In the end her death is her own fault anyway. Just because Magnus couldn’t show initiative in leaving her to keep a pristine image didn’t mean that she couldn’t do it herself. (Neglecting to take into account that after all the manipulations she was incapable of showing initiative at all… oh well, Magnus overdid with the training this time. For his future mate he will make sure that they retain their character and some of their independence. Because spending eternity with a characterless doormat is the last thing he would ever want.)

Then there was Camille.

The Beauty.

The Hat Maker.

The Blonde Vampire.

The Innocent Child.

But for someone that initially started as a sweet and kind girl, she certainly lost her naiveté very quickly. That wasn’t the problem. He would have been alright with his other half having a rational mind. But it was her changing in a way characteristic to most vampires that didn’t suit him. Gaining her confidence and accepting her beauty was fine with him. It was when she began playing the games of immortals after she lost her werewolf that he took offence. Because manipulating others was alright. But trying her willies on him?! That was something he could only equate to being suicidal. And a suicidal mate was most definitely unacceptable. 

He chose to keep Camille as a friendly acquaintance despite her attempts at manipulation. After all, sleeping with others was alright as long as he knew about it and could participate, but lying to his face? It was most definitely a sign that it is time to leave for warmer waters.

But after that disaster of a relationship she would never make it into the category of his friends. She wasn’t someone he could ever trust.

Will Herondale had potential.

He did.

But there was only so much that Magnus could chalk up to obliviousness before admitting that the guy is straight. Oh well.

Too bad, so sad.

At least he wouldn’t have to get rid of Tessa because she is way too powerful to just let her be after spiting her and stealing one of her boy-toys.

He had regrets.

But time passed and he moved on. 

It was in the beginning of the 21st century when he had started to wonder, that maybe actively seeking and trying just wasn’t enough. Maybe the three potentials and all those in between were doomed from the start? If he had lowered his standards so badly as to consider a con artist? Maybe there is a reason why just like demons Warlocks don’t have soul mates? 

He was honestly beginning to accept the thought of giving up.

But then he met Alexander Lightwood.

And everything changed.


	57. Expectations vs Life

Chapter 57. Expectations vs Life

For once in his life Valentine Morgenstern could admit that he acted rashly. 

Prematurely.

Was influenced by his emotions.

And not in a good way.

He would never bring himself to regret any of his experiments. Never. Not on his followers. Or the nameless mundanes and Downworlders. 

Or on his children.

It all served a greater purpose anyway.

And sacrifices?

They had to be made.

Even by him. For what is not the ultimate sacrifice but one’s own child.

And who cares that he didn’t care about any of them? Really? The only one that held some of his passing affection was Clary. A girl so much like her mother. In looks at least.

Jocelyn was a mistake.

His worst failure and greatest triumph.

They were young back then.

But he should have known better.

When the young Morgenstern was presented with all the possible pureblooded heiresses for a possible match, he let his heart, that traitorous organ he always chose to ignore get the better of him. Instead of making the rational choice, picking someone like Maryse Trueblood, someone who would stand by his side without hiding away from their actions, someone who hates Downworlders with a passion that rivals his, he chose Jocelyn Fairchild.

He chose his love.

But Jocelyn was a being of feelings, a creature of caring and love. She didn’t belong in the darkness. And when she finally made her choice, she didn’t chose him.

Perhaps he knew. 

Somewhere deep in the darkest corners of his soul he suspected but chose to ignore her feelings. Did little and at the same time too much.  
But he doesn’t regret his decision.

After all their children were just lumps of screaming flesh that owed them everything for simply existing. All his actions were justified. It was his right as their father.

Because who doesn’t want better, faster and stronger offspring? 

If such a person exists they are simply a mistake of evolution.

Surely he would be successful?

If not him, then who?

So when his eldest was born with all the characteristics of a Warlock without a Mark he was righteously furious.

Even Jocelyn, his sweet and caring Jocelyn knew that something was wrong with it! She didn’t hold it, didn’t care for it, leaving the task to servants, didn’t even want to be in the same room. And if his darling Jocelyn couldn’t find it in herself to mother the thing, then he doesn’t need to fake any affection either.

But Clary was different.

She was warm.

A mini Jocelyn.

And more importantly, Jocelyn loved her.

It is unfortunate that she was hidden away from their world. Now, even with the special boost of angel blood in her veins, she will never reach her full potential. But perhaps her children? He can almost bring himself to regret the lie about that boy’s heritage. Jace. The replacement and angel-blood infused double of his failed son. 

Their children would surely be powerful…

But he was so angry that his own legacy seeks his demise that he didn’t think. He wanted to strike where it hurts. Oh well, surely he can drop a hint somewhere? Or they can actually check his words? With the state of Shadowhunter healthcare it would surely take less than a few minutes…

But his regret doesn’t involve them. The ‘tragic’ lovers.

No.

It’s his ‘heir’, Jonathon that brings about the elusive feeling.

The thing.

When he realized that IT was useless, too disobedient, too demonic, too cold, he wanted to put the thing out of its misery himself. But then he remembered his debt to Lilith. 

Because there was just no way for him to obtain her blood without one. 

And debts to a Greater Demon?

They were something one didn’t want to leave hanging.

So why should he not pay with the thing that had cost him so dearly? Because surely it would serve some purpose, even if as a meal for some demon. He doesn’t care. It would most certainly die and take away the shame of its existence on the Morgenstern name.  
And if Lilith refuses such a payment?

Well…

He would think of something else. 

When Lilith took it without complaint in place of his debt he was relieved. At least he didn’t have to worry about her any longer.

But now he understands. Now he sees the puppeteer behind his own demise.

Because the thing? It is alive.


	58. Life is like a horse. One moment you ride it and the next it kicks you in the face

Chapter 58. Life is like a horse. One moment you ride it and the next it kicks you in the face

Clary was annoyed.

No, scratch that. She was mad.

When she got involved in this Shadowhunter mess, she didn’t expect this. 

The fact that she has special powers unlike anybody else is great. It was as if the world decided to compensate her for the disaster up ahead. How did she in all her wisdom and beauty, even get stuck fighting demons?!!! Why?

She knew that her first impression was correct. Most pureblooded Shadowhunters only hunted demons for sport. They sat in the safety of Idris and enjoyed the delights of life. Meanwhile, created Shadowhunters and those that stepped on too many toes had to fight demons daily to earn their keep!

So why was she among the cannon fodder?!

And what right did that, that… Warlock have to take her memories?! They were hers. Hers alone.

And now they are all gone.

And the only person who could shed some light onto the situation, her mother, was missing. Kidnapped by Valentine apparently.

The only thing that was going right in her life was her relationship with Jace. 

At least something was according to plan.

Until it wasn’t.

Why did she make all that effort into alienating Jace from Alec if it was all for naught? Why would she play the oblivious little thing and provoke Alexander into accepting a ‘Fearless’ Rune? Of course the result surprised even her. She had hoped for an injury through reckless behavior on an oncoming mission. Not social suicide. But it was better that way. No one could blame her for that fiasco after all.

Originally, she didn’t want Jace influenced by someone else through the parbati bond, a bond that wasn’t with her, but now that she knows of Alec’s deviations she would have to watch him. Closely. Competition isn’t something she needs in her endeavor.

But now that she and everybody else knows that Jace isn’t the Wayland heir, that he may be her brother, she doesn’t know what to do. All her actions were for granted.

But Sebastian Verlac seems to be a viable option.

Although he had arrived only recently, he has the looks. And just like Jace he doesn’t seem to have any immediate family in America. Alone, in a new environment, surely he would be easy prey.

If only he didn’t throw those appreciative glances at Alec!

Sometimes I wish that the ‘Fearless’ rune served its true purpose regardless of the stain to my reputation. 

Because Alexander Lightwood is an obstacle.

And he is in my way.

He has to go.

One way or another.


	59. I want that kitten! Honey, it’s a tiger…

Chapter 59. I want that kitten! Honey, it’s a tiger…

When Harriel first met Jonathon, he could tell that it would be a bumpy ride.

The kid was like a feral animal beaten into submission to follow the most basic commands. And while he could talk he chose not to. 

His behavior brought half-forgotten memories to the surface. Those buried beneath eons of knowledge. Those of his mortal life.

But the difference between Jonathon and Harry Potter, while seemingly insignificant, was immense. Because unlike Harry Potter, where the tormentor wore a friendly façade and hid his true nature until the very end, Jonathon had no such illusions. He knew the who, how and why’s right from the very start. That no one would come for him. No one would interfere and save him. That was what made him stronger, simultaneously making him weak. Because every day, he had to fight for himself, but what is the best fighter having the spirit of steel without any hope? Without a goal?

Even when Harry Potter shed the illusions spun around him, tore through the web of lies, he wasn’t hurt as badly as Jonathon. Because what was hurting, those feelings and connections? 

They weren’t even real. 

And that was what made all the difference.

The first time Jonathan lashed out was over something small. Something mundane. Because a teenager doing all-nighters? That was far from healthy. And Haru just had to do something about it.

And while having a vase fly at him wasn’t something new, it was still something interesting. Because while it was something most beings wanted to do, most were too cautious to attempt it. And a distressed child among the list of his exes who dared was certainly interesting.  
Another notable incident was the first attempt to run away. 

The kid was lucky that he got there in time. Because low-level demons wanting to play? That wasn’t something even a half-demon could survive. 

And what did he get for his efforts?

The little shit bit him, that’s what.

As the time went by, things got easier.

If one ignores the bodies.

But then again, the kid was a half demon, did anyone really expect kittens and rainbows?

And if some minions went missing? Well… they asked for it. Should have known better than look at a pretty face, smell his mixed blood and think prey.

But Harriel can honestly admit to himself that he should have at least looked into that bag to actually make sure it had the promised kitten instead of a feral animal hiding in its depths when Lilith merrily shoved her parenting duties onto him. And yes, he did agree to the entire thing willingly, but he should have at least checked and not jumped at a chance to alleviate his boredom. 

Explaining to Jonathon, that NO you can’t just go around killing everyone that annoys you…

*But Harriel, isn’t that what YOU do?*

*Well yes, but that’s besides the point…*

*How so?*

*I am actually doing an unpaid service to evolution and I don’t actually go around killing EVERYONE…*

….Didn’t go as planned. 

But regardless of certain ‘issues’, raising Jonathan Morgenstern was bearable. He had even begun to enjoy babysitting the brat. But letting one’s guard down around the little monster was a mistake. Because the moment Harriel got distracted? The menace just had to pull a Magnus Bane.

Oops.

Lilith will not be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, I am going to take a break before posting more updates for this fic. Your comments gave me a random burst of inspiration so now I have three chapters half-written and one complete. But they are all very ahead in the story-line. Until I link them all together, I won't update this fic.  
> However, I will start posting a HP/GOT fic soon, maybe even today, so don't freak out, I am still alive. COVID-safe. I promise.


	60. Sleeping Beauty

Chapter 60. Sleeping Beauty

Jocelyn was asleep.

She was.

And wasn’t.

She did this to herself after all. The least she could do was remain self-aware.

But one thing she didn’t take into account was the shear boredom of her situation. In theory it sounded oh so promising. Remaining an unseen and unsuspected spectator to her husband’s plots and plans. All that blackmail material…

 _Was near useless_.

Oh she did get more than enough intel. Truly. But it was far from useful. Honestly, did Valentine have nothing better to do than to rant about his feelings?! It was in times like these that she once more realized that marrying him was the biggest mistake of her life. Because what kind of man is desperate enough to think that feelings could be earned? Or _bought_?!

They just _are_.

Or _aren’t_.

When she was young, she was naïve. She believed in fairies and Princes on White steeds that would sweep in to carry her away with a true-loves-kiss like a _real_ Princess. And at the time, she didn’t understand her mother’s pinched expression. Or her father’s look of exasperation. Or the nanny’s giggles.

But as she grew older, she learned. A pretty fairy was far less likely to give you a gift than curse you to high Heaven. _Literally_. That the only ‘Prince’ she had met was older than her by a few centuries _at the least_. That at the offered apple, the beautiful steed with its three rows of carefully hidden razor-sharp teeth would much prefer a bite out of her own arm.

And so she tried to forget. She wasn’t a child anymore.

But that didn’t stop her dreams. Her wishes or what ifs.

So when she was introduced to Valentine Morgenstern at her debut ball, she was excited. _Finally_. Here is her Prince Charming. And so she listened to her mother. To her excited chatter of prospects and position and wealth and beauty and prosperity. And she ignored her heart.

Because if she didn’t?

She would have realized that through all of her plans and plots and excitement, her most traitorous organ remained silent.

And so began her disastrous stint into family life.

She didn’t love her husband. Or her children. Or anyone really. On the surface, she presented the perfect image of the ideal woman and mother. But beneath it all? She was hollow. Empty. A doll. And she liked it that way.

It was made worse by seeing her eldest child for the first time. Because where new mothers were meant to feel all lovey-dovey, she didn’t feel _a thing_. She could only look at his hair and think… it’s the wrong shade of red. Not _her_ red.

He was _wrong_.

He wasn’t _hers_.

She couldn’t even bear to look at him.

Considering the endless nightmares she had to endure all throughout her pregnancy, she didn’t even _want to_.

How happy she was to be a Shadowhunter of a high social standing in that moment. After all, no one would look at her sideways for choosing to leave the care of her firstborn to the maids.

She had thought that things would get better. That feelings would come. That things would change.

They didn’t.

Or _did_.

Too fast, too soon. And she wasn’t ready.

 _For anything_.


	61. To Build a House Destroy a Home

Chapter 61. To Build a House Destroy a Home

It started small.

At first.

Some late night outings with ‘the boys’. Getting together for ‘old time’s sake’. That kind of thing.

And if her husband began spouting things about demons and Downworlders? Even in public? Who cared. It wasn’t like every other Hunter secretly didn’t think the same way. Valentine was just voicing popular opinion. Nothing else. If others didn’t, it was only for the fear of being publicly scorned for doubting the Accords. That was it.

Had it remained ‘kitchen talk’ no one would have payed them any mind. After all, it wasn’t like even the members of the Clave didn’t think exactly the same way. Considering that some of her husband’s most loyal supporters were Clave members and secretly part of the Circle, the critique their actions received was mostly just for show.

Until the murders started.

When it was just some no-name Downworlders here and there, no one cared. Not the Others and certainly not the Clave. If those executions weren’t authorized, it wasn’t like the deaths of some outcasts ever warranted any investigation. Had it been mere Demon kills no one would have cared either. But for all that Valentine spouted motivational speeches for eradicating Demon-kind, _those_ were the promises that _never actually_ went beyond talk. Sadly.

It wasn’t just that the number of Demons visiting Earth was almost always constant. If she didn’t know better, she would think they had a roster ( _if only she knew…_ ). But that couldn’t be the case. After all, Demons were nothing but mindless, filthy beasts. Nothing more. But unlike helpless Downworlder pariahs, Demons could and _did_ fight back. Without a single care for their lives. It was as if they thought themselves immortal! But that couldn’t be! No one could survive decapitation! Or live without a heart ( _not metaphorically_ ). Not even a Demon ( _or so Demons would have Hunters think…_ ).

And while a trained and experienced team of Hunters _could_ bring down even a moderately powerful Demon, they preferred _not_ to. But they would never admit to it. Not for the fear of being accused of cowardice. No. Simple self-preservation was more like it. After all, having _at least_ ten Hunter casualties per bringing down a mid-level Demon was hardly a fair exchange.

So they chose to go after the cannon-fodder. The Demonic trash that didn’t even deserve to be called _Demons_ by anyone but the Hunters who only used the term to stroke their own egos and feed their self-importance.

And so it went on.

All was well.

Although the first warning bell did sound…

It came suddenly. Unexpectedly.

On one hand, her husband’s parbati’s Turning was a disaster. On the other? It was a blessing in disguise. Because Luke gave her a purpose. Gave her a goal. He may have been thrown out onto the streets in shame of being too weak to prevent becoming a _Thing_ , and only kept on living because he was also too weak to put an end to his own misery and disgrace. But mentally? He was no werewolf. He was a Hunter _through and through_. A Hunter Turned werewolf that as Valentine’s parbati knew many, _many_ things. And was even a supporter. _Once_. Until he became the very _thing_ his once-upon-a-time best friend, almost brother preached to exterminate.

But Luke _no longer Garroway_ wanted to _live_.

And so he turned to the only Hunter he knew that wouldn’t spit in his face and blame him for his ‘betrayal’.

_Jocelyn._

Not because she was such a great friend or a tolerant Downworlder lover. No. _Far from it_. But to her, for all that her only strong feeling was a sense of duty to the Shadowhunter cause, for all that her motto was the drivel used to brainwash every new generation of Hunters into unyielding, dutiful killing machines, Luke’s stain as a Downworlder was negated by his loyalty to the Clave.

And so when she got the opportunity to take the Mortal Cup, she did so without hesitation. And when she had to leave the Shadow World behind, she did so with a heavy heart but with a feeling of accomplishment. It was her duty as a Shadowhunter after all.

As for why she didn’t hand the Cup in to the Clave in return for her pardon? Well… At first she didn’t see the point. With her husband being her only powerful political ally and her own maiden family renouncing any and all ties to the Circle it wasn’t like her life would have been carefree in that case. So she decided to wait for the opportune moment. But then Clary was born and she could no longer do _a thing_. Because there wasn’t anything the Clave wouldn’t love more at that time than a repentant scapegoat.

A scapegoat she had _no desire_ to be.

And yes, she may have held no love for her second child _either_ , but at least Clarissa’s hair was the _right_ kind of red. _Her_ red. _She_ didn’t cause all of Jocelyn’s hairs to stand on end or her instincts to scream at her to run while she still could. Clary was normal. Or as _normal_ as any Shadowhunter child could be.

So if Jocelyn chose to pretend that a mundane life was all she ever wanted and that the position of a mother was her dream full-time job? It was _her_ business. Not Luke’s, with his kicked-dog look and puppy eyes. Not Dot’s with her nosiness.

_Hers._

So when her daughter began to draw Runes, even those she had never seen before in her entire life, her solution to the problem was _hers_. Alone.

And yes, she _did_ understand that looking away Clary’s abilities could and _would_ damage her abilities as a Hunter. But it wasn’t like Jocelyn was in any hurry to face the music! So Clary would have to satisfied in living her life as a nameless mundane. It was better that way! And it is far more merciful in her opinion that her daughter never knows what she is missing or the world she was born for, but will never be part of than to torture herself with unfulfilled dreams…

And _yes_ , Jocelyn _did_ understand (and Magnus _did_ explain, even if she chose to pretend she didn’t or _couldn’t_ ) that erasing the knowledge and abilities that would make up a significant portion of Clary’s life, could leave her mentally impaired or even brain-dead. But in her own opinion, the outcome was worth the risk! _Surely_ Clary would understand! But even if she _wouldn’t_ , it’s not like she remembers what has been done so there is no need to beg for forgiveness ( _not that it would be sincere anyway, after all, mother knows best)._

And if from then on, Jocelyn spent large sums of money catering to her daughter’s every need and demand, it wasn’t from the guilt! And that feeling in her chest which spasms every time Clary practices her moves for ballet instead of the beginning exercises for young Hunters, is certainly _not_ that of something missing!

And all those excessive gifts and attention?

She was definitely not trying to compensate! _For the lies, for the missing parental love…_

She _wasn’t_.


	62. Getting along like a House on Fire (Literally)

Chapter 62. Getting along like a House on Fire ~~Literally~~

A ray of light crept slowly through a tiny gap in the blinds. It seemed to move with a purpose, and even if it took a few hours, it eventually reached its intended destination.

 _The bed_.

Or rephrasing _that_ , the monster that is _supposed to_ be the bed.

Because a normal bed cannot _comfortably_ fit five people. And with space to spare, too.

But this one did.

Easily.

Although it was very hard to tell just how many were actually there. One could only count the ‘contents’ using their hair colors. Which were thankfully different.

 _Mostly_.

If one doesn’t count the set of identical twins.

But four of the ‘residents’ weren’t important.

Not to the person that barged into the previously peaceful haven and forcefully slammed the intricately ornamented double doors. And _boy_ was that person _pissed_.

Or more like fuming.

_Literally._

Because the footprints he left in the obviously priceless Persian carpet were smoldering. Into ashes.

But while four out of the five bed companions had a developed sense of self-preservation which _not only_ woke them up from their beauty sleep but forced them to flee the room through all reasonable and _unreasonable_ means (if one counts the idiot that barged through the _window_ ) with high pitched shrieks of terror. _None of it_ woke the owner of the bed up.

Or perhaps he was faking and giving more credit to the mundane saying _‘blondes are dumb’_.

Because the now sole occupant of the luscious bed was as blonde as they come. Beach tanned blonde and blue eyed, to be exact. The perfect Barbie doll. Harmless and stupid.

Or so one would think.

Not for long though.

Because few had _ever_ dared to face that misconception of mistaking _Lucifer_ for a brainless bimbo to get ~~crawl~~ away unscathed or even _alive_. But the _disturbance_ obviously didn’t get the memo. Or didn’t _understand_ that pulling the cloud-like quilt off the creature many referred to as _the Devil_ and pouring a bucket of ice-cold water onto them would not go without repercussions.

And it _didn’t_.

Because a smoldering fire-ball that smashed through the painstakingly hand-painted ornamental wall that housed the already ~~shattered~~ damaged window broken by the idiot that didn’t understand that while _yes_ , the Deceiver was the greatest fuck of a lifetime, the complications such a tryst would bring would rarely serve to extend one’s life or better one’s health. _Obviously_ …

But the unexpected visitor didn’t seem to care for the unforeseen complications. Or maybe he just wasn’t afraid of difficulties? Or maybe they were just part of the Devil’s tiny list of creatures that could get away with murder? _Literally_?

The figure on the bed decided to make sure. To take a peek at the suicidal idiot just before smiting them. Just to make sure they were no one important or better yet, _irreplaceable_.

Unfortunately, they _were._

After all, his own beloved and only son could get away with _much more than_ murder. From Lucifer’s point of view, the no-longer fluffy or tiny ball of cuteness and power that was his child could get away with the _Apocalypse_.

Although the freezing wake-up call was cutting it close…

“Haru, WTF?!!!” So expressing his exasperation verbally was his only option, really.

“Lucy, dearest, is there something you wanted but _forgot_ to tell me?!” In that moment, his beloved Haru looked as if he were about to set the hounds of Hell on him. And although his precious child would never do so, his glowing green eyes were truly vicious and menacing in that instant.

“No?...” He honestly couldn’t recall anything he concealed or omitted lately, that would bring about fury of this magnitude.

Haru looked as if he were about to explode.

“So how come, when I come home after my extended trip over the Realms, I suddenly find out that apparently, I am **_engaged_**! And to make it worse it’s to Magnus Fuckin’ **_Bane_**!!!”

“Oops?” Shit! I had hoped he wouldn’t find out about _that_ fiasco of a plan…


	63. It’s a beautiful night, I’m looking for something dumb to do… My Life’s Already Gone to Shit so I Might Now Just Marry You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those people out there that were patiently waiting... it's finally here... Merry Christmas!

Chapter 63. It’s a beautiful night, I’m looking for something dumb to do… My Life’s Already Gone to Shit so I Might Now Just Marry You.

Magnus Bane was over his life. _Seriously_. Especially after the 7th shot of magic-spiked tequila mixed with a bucketful of antidepressants. After all, it’s not every day that you find out that all your plans have literally gone _to shit_.

And not because of some insignificant gnat you could torture the Hell out of in rightful retaliation, but because of your own very much loved (at a distance), if a bit estranged, father. And if there was one thing Magnus wouldn’t recommend, it was even thinking about torturing _Asmodeus_. Unless it was a sexual fantasy of some very much consensual bedroom gymnastics, that is. Who knows? Knowing him, Asmodeus might actually be up to it if he is in the right mood (which is _always_ ) or just feeling like some hate-sex (which is _sometimes_ ).

But it’s not every fucking day that your very-much _ex_ crashes your apartment as if it’s some kind of Demonic Switzerland or Hotel Transylvania! Honestly, Magnus was very much used to his exes crashing his place. And no matter how badly it tweaked Alec’s nerves, some of them were among those even _Magnus_ would ~~could~~ never turn away. And Haru’s name was unfortunately at the very top of that very short list. And what made it that much worse was the fact that he wasn’t even an ex- _boyfriend_ but an ex- _fiancé_!

And don’t even ask _him_ about _that_ happened!

He _still_ doesn’t know the answer!

Even if it’s been literally eons!

But then again, Harriel was just that kind of being…

 _Unforgettable_.

And coincidentally, the biggest mess and emotional train wreck he had the misfortune of crashing.

Just like their entire **_relationship_**.

Which _still_ remains one of his very few regrets in life even after a literally endless amount of time since.

Because nothing foretold the epitome of the emotional disaster that awaited them when they first met. _Nothing_. Nothing _at all_. Because who even thinks that a one-night-stand of a random couple that met at a Demon x Fae function and decided to continue their encounter elsewhere, would turn out that way? Certainly not Magnus.

Especially considering he was pretty much blackout drunk. And so was his delicious but delirious nightly companion. So instead of a wonderful but forgettable fuck, their first and what _should have_ likely been their last meeting, turned into something else entirely. Something _unforgettable_.

Because trying to forget the person you threw up on a total of _fifteen times_ and who in turn gagged on you, is a most difficult feat. Especially if that person, instead of running away upon coming to first in the much unappreciated morning, decided not to avoid looking into the blood shot eyes of the person, that while they did get to see naked, was all for the wrong reasons. But then again, maybe that was because if there was anyone in the many worlds that would be fazed by an almost classic walk of shame, _that person_ would be at the very bottom of an infinite list. Because shy was the last word one would use to describe the son of the literal _Devil_. Although considering that very son of the Devil was previously defeated by a flimsy kitchen wall when he walked into it while looking for the fridge, perhaps Magnus had high expectations. Because scraping his very much hung-over _almost_ lover off the tiled floor and being relieved that while _yes_ , the idiot was very much knocked out, there were no visible wounds, no body fluids and no concussion brings one down to Earth so-to-speak, _very_ quickly.

But then again, maybe he should have just left him there. Because only Magnus frickin’ Bane could decide that drunk magic was a great idea. Although the downpour that flooded the kitchen floor instead of a single glass of water would dare state otherwise. A downpour, the clumsy idiot known as Magnus Bane happily stepped on.

And so there were two bodies sprawled in that very eventful kitchen.

Although maybe the two of them should have kept their mouths shut. Because what kind of idiots pretty much promise to marry the perfect stranger currently in the same unfortunate situation ‘if they survive this’ while scraping each other off the floor with varying success?

And maybe, just _maybe_ , they should have considered their parents, who were very much unfortunately secretly present to enjoy the view and absolutely _delighted_ to go along with that dumb idea. Even to the point of drawing up a preliminary engagement contract. A contract the backlash of which has unknowingly been ruining his life since he made the fateful decision that the Haru + Magnus relationship just _doesn’t frickin’ work_!

Because that while screwing your own almost mirror image in character _could_ be attributed to Narcissism, continuing to do so _systematically_ for the rest of their very long and _immortal_ lives was plain masochism!

And while he might admit to not being a 100% right in the head, he wasn’t _nearly_ that bad! And _hopefully_ , neither was Haru…


	64. So Far Away

Chapter 64. So Far Away

Sometimes, on some occasions, Alec honestly questioned his life choices. Or to put it more _truthfully_ , the choices of his family and friends. Or maybe even, _his own_ choice of people he chose to consider family and friends. Because honestly, in the end, it wasn’t a choice at all.

Because a redheaded bimbo at his Institute was basically the first warning sign of the fact that something was wrong. That not all was right in a seemingly perfectly functioning mechanism that was the domain of Shadowhunters. Because when his parbati, someone who Alec thought would always have his back, repeatedly chooses to put his head on the line for a piece of ass? Well… Alec can’t say he has the right to judge, considering that he had repeatedly seen that very same manoeuvre being pulled off by many other Hunters.

Pretty much half of those who were between the ages of fifteen and fifty tended to participate in the unnamed but secretly popular game of Badass Hunter/ Saved Victim = Hot gratitude + Sex. Some even managed to pull off playing for both sides. For example, an unnamed female associate of his pretended to twist her ankle on a hunt and ended up having to be ‘saved’ by a newbie from a neighboring Institute. But honestly, she could have and more so, _should have_ chosen better. Although what speaks for Alec’s negative opinion of the newbie’s skills or the lack of those, was that he failed to have the foresight to ask or check about his temporary teammate’s injury in favor of having a grateful quickie in an alleyway.

And how Alec knows for a fact that the ‘injury’ was a ruse to get some? Well… who do you think checked the stupid girl over after her ‘adventures’? Not the idiot who sprained her shoulder and broke her arm during throes of passion, that’s for sure!

But the girl definitely learned from her misadventure, because from then on she chose to play the Hunter in the stereotypical scenario. And thankfully chose more considerate lovers that didn’t leave her confined to the medical wing _for real_.

So getting back to the morale of the story, Alec was hardly surprised with Jace’s ‘pursuit’ of the girl. Especially considering that bitchy but oblivious seemed to be his type. Although he hardly expected the mess that would result in his parbati’s very much base needs to get some booty. Needs, that for some reason, instead of keeping confined to a nameless hotel room, he chose to drag straight to the Institute. Because while the girl _did_ have some Hunter abilities, she was hardly the first or the last one! Because what actually happens in the typical scene of girl meets boy? Holding hands? Kissing? Dating? What about those who are not as interested in the ‘first base’ stuff? Or those who just have ‘needs’? Or those who just want a break from their respective spouses? Especially, if said spouses were hardly their own choice? What if the ‘girl’ was a mundane and the ‘boy’, a Hunter? What if they forgot to use protection? Or better yet, didn’t care enough to use it? What if the Hunter used runes to mesmerize the poor mundane to think that she is sleeping with her own boyfriend? Because no matter how Hunters beat themselves in the chest about being the second most purest thing in existence after Angels, that was _hardly_ the truth. And there were bad eggs among Hunters, just like anywhere else. What if it happened centuries ago?

Would the resulting child still be a Hunter? Would the descendant be a Hunter?

Well…

The answer to that question was… not always…

And so less morally obliged Hunters didn’t feel the need to ‘keep it in their pants’, so to speak. Because what would even be the chance that they would come across their own illegitimately begotten offspring in the safety of their own manors in Idris? Almost none at all…

But still, every year there were ‘mundanes’ out there that began to see more than they ought to. Or were even born with those abilities. Some were killed by the things they saw before they could even comprehend the complexity of the society they thought they knew everything about. Others? The ‘lucky’ ones? They were brought in to their very own fairy-tale and were foolish enough not to run for the hills screaming. Because what ‘pure’ family wanted the stain on their honor brought to them by their respectable members or even their distant ancestors in the event of the Hunter blood sleeping for many generations? No one, really…

And so the newly inducted Hunters were taught…

The bare minimum.

And _only_ if they were still in their childhood. 

Still young enough to be molded…

To become the cannon fodder that paved the paths of Hunters with the right pedigree to glory.

And should they prove to have potential? They were then recognized in haste, given the family name and some poor sob story of how they were secretly ‘kidnapped’ or it was ‘love at first sight’ drivel. And so, even non-human blood in their veins could publicly be overlooked. But only _publicly_. Because in private? No ‘acknowledgment’ would change a _thing_. And so the newly dubbed Blackthorns were still called abominations and disgusting Downworlder spawn their father must have fathered while glamoured behind their backs.

And what made it worse was that everyone knew it…

The open secret to as to why. Because few could survive the Mortal Cup. And so the Shadowhunters had to bear with the ‘disgrace’ of diluted bloodlines in the hope of a few strong Hunters being born even among the ‘dirt’ to later strengthen the already existing pure families.

Although the newly inducted Hunters that learnt of this ‘fact’, hardly ever saw it that way.

But regardless of the disgusting practices he didn’t agree with, Alec was basically made a willing accomplice. Because even now, when he was unofficially running the Institute, they had fifteen youngsters trained up. Youngsters, that without a long line of accomplished and more importantly, _legitimate_ ancestors, were only ever going to be accepted when actively fighting demons.

And when they grow too old for active duty?

They more likely than not would be unable to afford living anywhere, but the slums of Idris.


	65. Cry Me an Ocean

Chapter 65. Cry Me an Ocean

The moment Max was born was the moment Alec knew with the utmost certainty that he would never be the Lord of House Lightwood. And honestly, in that moment, he was genuinely relieved.

No more was he to listen his father drone on and on about what a proper Heir may, or may not do. No more would he have to listen to his mother’s delirious speeches in front of a mirror about picking the proper spouse early on. One with a high dowry, powerful family and well connected, too. Well enough to clear the Lightwood name and help bring them back to rightful glory. No more would he have to hide his disgust at their family meals while his parents were openly discussing who, which fat ball of blubber on the Council would it be most beneficial to promise baby Izzy to when she grows up while his oblivious little sister was smiling and blowing raspberry with her puree.

But for all that Alec was relieved, he wasn’t for long.

Because what was previously training, was now just a guise to hit him harder. To beat him until he couldn’t get up. To settle all their grievances and true feelings about him in a now acceptable manner. To crush his spirit. To show him how truly weak and worthless he was. And while many would think that he was a coward choosing the bow as his main weapon, he would rather be a living coward than a brave idiot. Because there was little opportunity for contact and what by then became regular beatings during lessons at long-distance weaponry, most of which, in particular the bow, neither of his ‘beloved’ parents knew how to properly use.

And _yes_ , he did actually prefer to use daggers over the bow, but he was smart enough not to show it. And to train in secret in his room. But there was only so much one can learn when self-taught. So maybe that was the real reason why Jace was the best Hunter of the Institute. And not some strange blood property transferred from the Angels. A story the validity of which, Alec had a very difficult time believing in. Because for all that Clary ‘miraculously’ drew unknown Runes she claimed not to know the meaning of, Jace had never actually demonstrated anything of the sort.

And most likely, never would.

***

Honestly, meeting Magnus Bane was meant to be something trivial. Something ordinary. Almost mundane, even.

Just a spell on a delirious redhead. _Just one spell_.

What could _possibly_ go wrong?

_Everything, apparently._

It was only Clary that could assume that it was her own exclusiveness that brought her the ‘high’ treatment. If she was just another no name Shadowhunter, no one would have bothered with finding out the ‘truth’. Because how many of the ‘found’ Shadowhunters thought their parents had secrets? _All of them_. But out of all of those, no one would bother taking a worthless no-name to the Silent Brothers, or better yet, subjecting them to the Sword of Justice. And for how many of those would there be orders from above to deliver a priceless artifact pendant as payment for the services of the High Warlock of Brooklyn? Because _no one_ could convince Alec that _Hodge_ , the former Circle member (whose ‘membership’ was no secret for those who knew to read between the lines), had _that_ kind of authority.

And more so, no one would bother teaching her at her age.

But teach her they _did_. Regardless of their wants and objections. Because one doesn’t refuse the Clave. Not if they want to live. And certainly not if their family is already on their last warning.

So when Alec properly met Magnus, he was rightfully frustrated. Why does he have to bother with the stupid chit that thinks she is better than everyone else if her only questionable benefit other than being a nuisance in a fight was her relation to Valentine Morgenstern and Jocelyn Fairchild that everyone other than said chit already knew about? The ‘pure’ bloodline of which the Clave would hate to lose regardless of their relations towards the two ‘parents’. Especially considering the ‘heir’s’ obliviousness and her future worth as plausible bait for finding the Mortal Cup.

So when Alec first saw Magnus, he was rightfully unimpressed. It wasn’t just the other man’s frustrating attitude, how he could afford to flaunt his ‘deviations’ by way of his eyeliner and appraising glances towards Alec himself but that he could _afford to_. He could afford to be proud. Stand tall. And not be ashamed of himself and things he couldn’t change anyway. Things that Alec had to painstakingly hide and try not to think about.

So when he found a ‘Call Me XOXO’ note in the back pocket of his jeans ( _how it even got there, he prefers not to think about),_ he ripped it apart and threw it in the nearest trashcan without any hesitation. Since after _that_ disaster of a meeting, with its failed demonic summoning and the permanent loss of the redhead’s memories they were obliged by the Clave to obtain, he was not in any kind of good mood. Rather the opposite, actually. Considering that it was his responsibility as Acting Head of the Institute and the Team Leader for the failed mission to write the report to their superiors. 

And most if not all the consequences for the failure would likely rain on _his_ head.

Something this ‘Magnus Bane’ obviously failed to think about or even consider. Because the Warlock’s only concern seemed to be of his own 'precious' self and to have a good time. Unlucky for him, Alec had other priorities.

And not making a bad situation worse was certainly one of them.


	66. Even if you were the last person on Earth

Chapter 66. Even if you were the last person on Earth…

The second time Alec saw Magnus, it wasn’t actually on a ‘job’.

Regardless of what the likes of Jace would like to think, Alec actually _knew_ how to have fun. Only he preferred to do it _alone_. Yes, there once was a time when he mistakenly thought that friendship is an obligation to go along with Jace’s stupid ideas and conceptions of a good time. But those times were long gone.

He knew better now.

And honestly, becoming Jace’s parbati was now a decision he doubts he would repeat had he had a chance to go back in time or reconsider. Because with time, the differences only built up. When they first met as young boys roughly the same age and Alec really had no choice on whether to become friends. It was either Jace or a secret friendship with the mundane-born Hunter boys. But the differences in class didn’t allow for much leeway. Maryse Lightwood made sure of it. So the only ‘appropriate’ friend Alec got was in the form of Jace Wayland. And being at an age where kids would come up to each other and genuinely say ‘lets be friends' and actually _mean it_ meant that he had little choice on the matter.

And initially it wasn’t even that bad.

But when Jace hit adolescence?...

It was literal _Hell on Earth_.

Because being dragged along to loud, sweaty, crazy parties of teenage mundanes for which Jace always ‘somehow’ got invitations was a nightmare. Especially because of the indecent and intoxicated females that seemed to make it their goal to drape themselves and their wriggling, wobbling frontal ‘baggage’ barely covered by bright colored, skimpy clothing, all over him. And while Jace enjoyed such a pastime, loved it, even, Alec _hated it_! Because he _couldn’t_ truthfully say ‘I am not into females. Sorry.’! Not in front of Jace with his loud mouth and absolutely _no sense of secrecy_ , that would make such knowledge the public property of first their Institute, and then everywhere else and their grandmother!

So Alec eventually began to make excuses. That he isn’t in to that kind of thing. That he doesn’t want to be a third wheel. That Jace abandons him early on for some fake blonds with a boob job and fake nails, anyway. That he doesn’t like loud music. That he isn’t into casual sex. That he isn’t into getting STI’s…

And so on…

Miraculously, it _worked_. And maybe it was the fact that Jace didn’t actually try to fight him or ask about what he _actually_ likes to do in his free time that showed the exact extent of their ‘friendship’ and ‘brotherhood’.

Shallow at best.

Non-existent at worst.

But disregarding his own excuses, some of them were flat-out lies. Especially his ‘hate’ of music. Because if there was one thing Alec loved, it was music. And especially slipping under and into the beat and forgetting yourself in a dark corner somewhere on the dance floor. Because a Shadowhunter of any worthwhile skill set has to have _some_ sense of rhythm.

And luckily for him, Alec _did_.

Although he usually preferred to slip into the mundane Night Clubs under some invisibility Runes to avoid the unwanted attention. Because company was the one thing he _didn’t_ want. And even more so, he didn’t want to be recognized. So Shadowhunter parties and Downworlder raves were off the table.

But one thing he didn’t expect on that night, was for someone to see through his Runes.

And in a mundane Club at that.

With the unwanted witness being Magnus frickin’ Bane ( _again_ ), he sincerely wanted to growl and throw something in frustration, not follow the ‘invitation’ and sit down at the Warlock’s table for company. But if there was one thing he _couldn’t_ afford to do, as an Acting Head of an Institute, it was to deteriorate the relationship with the Downworlders and especially those in power, further.

And going by the smirk that slipped across his lips, Magnus Bane _knew it_!


	67. Blood, Roses and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, a bit of death in this chapter. Overall a bit morbid.

Chapter 67. Blood, Roses and Death

How in the world they ended up in the same bed, Alec still couldn’t say. Because every single meeting they had in private was akin to the relationship between a cat and a dog. With the cat pocking the previously slumbering dog, nagging it until it would jump up to give chase, only for the offending nuisance to climb the safety of a tree and watch the outcome of the actions of its mischievous paws from up there. And Magnus, with his split pupils and love for cats was obviously the annoying feline. Although Alec absolutely refuses to relate himself to a dog! Especially since he usually didn’t react ( _mostly because he couldn’t afford to. Not with Downworld politics on the line_ ) and when he _did_ , it was usually with a snide, biting remark here or there.

In public though? Well… in public their meetings were something else entirely. More so since Alec couldn’t afford to show that there was _something_ there. But Magnus Bane certainly didn’t have that constraint. Or even the courtesy to maintain the appearance of decency. So all the present spectators, which typically consisted of Jace, Izzy and the annoying redhead were usually very confused. Especially when subjected to seeing the mentally undressing glances the Warlock would throw him and in response, his complete lack of reaction or expression, likening his face to a marble statue. And what annoyed Alec the most wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t voice his complaints with the situation but the fact that _that Warlock_ had to be so obvious in his appraisal as if Alec was a piece of meat at the Markets.

And maybe the tension would have just kept building if not for all the life-threatening situations they kept ending up in. Honestly, if he didn’t know otherwise, he could swear that someone was orchestrating them _on purpose_!

It was as if the Universe had had it out for them. Although he can’t really complain. Because in comparison to Jace and his dumb redhead, his own misadventures were only a consequence and not a reason. And being honest with himself, he was hardly ever the target. If someone got kidnapped or Turned it was never him. If someone died? Well, it wasn’t him either… those roles were usually allocated to the redhead’s love interests. First Simon and then _Jace_.

And while under different circumstances, Alec would have thoroughly enjoyed the dumbfounded face expression on the entitled bitch’s face. Hell, he would have even payed to see it! But not at the expense of his parbati’s life!

 _Yes_ , he may have barely tolerated Jace’s idiocy, especially lately. And maybe in the darkest corners of his mind, he wished for some peace, to not have to hear his parbati’s loud voice regurgitating another of his ‘genius’ ideas. But he had never wished for him to _die_! And while the stupid rumors **_someone_** ( _cough, dumb bitch, cough_ ) spread around when news of his ‘deviations’ became public knowledge, of his ‘love’ towards his own parbati, that was hardly the case.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

That he didn’t care.

He _did_.

Just not enough.

Because most of his pain stemmed from the destruction of a bond that played a significant part of the majority of his life. Not genuine emotions of love and despair. That would have been a different life and a different Alec. They were more like filial feelings of loss and sadness.

So when the redheaded bimbo got over the fact that she had _failed_ , that Raziel didn’t come. That no one answered. That either she wasn’t important enough to generate any response or her plea wasn’t genuine or important enough, she was furious. And she turned that fury onto the closest people in her vicinity. After all, she was special! Bad things happen to other people! Surely she deserves better! She was sure that if Alec was dead, no one would care! Why did it have to be her Jace? Her golden ticket into the Shadowhunter society? Especially with his Herondale heirship?!

So when a distraught Alec ended up with an armful of hysterical redhead screaming “Alec! Do **_Something_**!!!”, he didn’t know what to even say. Because there was nothing to say. Death happens to _everyone_. To all mortals. And Shadowhunters, regardless of their superiority complex and extra powers, were just as mortal as the next mundane down the street. So the truth of the matter was that Death was inevitable. Even for the best Hunters of the Institute.

But Clary failed to see it that way. Because she had long-ago known, there were loopholes for every kind of situation. Even seemingly unsolvable ones. And while she was terribly shocked that Raziel failed to show, she shouldn’t have been. After all, she should have so trustingly believed in the fairy tales of Shadowhunter origins. Because what kind of gullible idiot even believes in the existence of _Angels_?! Maybe she just wanted to. Wanted to believe in her own divine origins over some weird genetic mutation. Wanted to believe in fairy tales.

But she knows better now.

Although that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t believe in loopholes. Doesn’t believe in Magic. But Magic is just a tool to be used. And while she may not have it, it doesn’t mean that Magic won’t solve her problems for her. Surely, if Alec begs on his knees thoroughly enough, the ever-present but non-interfering Magnus Bane would deign to grant the dearest wish of his current boy-toy?!

But there were things that Clary, in all her know-it-all entitled attitude, didn’t _actually_ know. And the extent of Alec’s and Magnus’s relationship was one of those things. Or even the actual relationship between Jace and Alec. So while Magnus was very happy to offer his insincere condolences and take advantage of the hunter’s distraught state, he was nowhere _near_ to forgetting his own selfish nature and offering the sacrifices required to bring someone back from the dead. Especially at the expense of his own well-being. Because while Alexander Lightwood was well on his way away from being a lovely piece of ass Magnus would love to try before the hunter loses his attractiveness to the inevitability of age, to becoming a favored, maybe even favorite toy he would hate to lose, there were some sacrifices, Magnus would never make for anyone other than himself.

So when Clary Fray realized that the world is no longer bending over backwards to satisfy her wishes, she was what she thought, rightfully upset. Although screaming insults like a banshee and slapping Alec across the face, was something she should have avoided. If only to have the benefit of hiding her true face, because after _that_? She wasn’t fooling _anyone_.

If there was one person who reaped all the benefits of the situation, it was Magnus. Because not only was the annoyance factor that was Jace (Wayland? Morgenstern? Herondale?) gone for good, he got the opportunity to ‘distract’ his dear Alexander by fucking him into the mattress. A feat he was previously almost certain, he would not be able to achieve without coercion.

Although even with finally getting what he wanted, he didn’t dispose of the mind-altering potions he brewed for his dear Alec, using the boy’s own blood. After all, who knows what situations, life will lead them to? And while he would hate to keep his boy drugged on love potions, especially since there were many ways to keep one compliant without them, keeping a supply for emergencies was probably a smart idea.


	68. Last Friday Night

Chapter 68. Last Friday Night

Alec woke to a weight on top of him. Usually, it took less than the barest whisper to have him awake, alert and ready for battle. Although this time, his failure to notice the threat was hardly his fault. It’s not every day that the other half of one’s soul, one’s spiritual brother dies, leaving a gaping wound and emptiness in place of a constant buzz at the edge of one’s consciousness. Because no matter the deterioration of their relationship, Jace was still an important part of his life. Although the fact that something was amiss remained unseen by everyone around them, and when noticed was first attributed to Alec’s ‘jealousy’ at Jace’s _wonderful_ relationship, to later be considered the disgusting attraction of a deviant towards a normal hunter. Not without a certain redhead’s ‘help’ of course. Because no matter how Maryse and Robert Lightwood may view their eldest son, they would never allow for the spread of such rumors to tarnish the family name.

But no matter the new low he had landed himself in, Alec would rather not think of the entitled bitch or his _esteemed_ parents in what is probably his only opportunity for silent grief. Although if there is one thing he knows for certain, it is that he would never allow himself to be dragged into another ‘save Clary’ situation. Especially without Jace. He isn’t going to be another stepping stone to the redhead’s ambitions. And the first opportunity he gets, he will initiate her transfer to a different Institute. If he even maintains the authority to do so after the scandal that was the rumor of his personal life. Because the last thing they need at the moment is to host _Valentine’s_ _daughter_ among their members. Their affairs have been scandalous enough as it is.

Although right now he has other problems to worry about. Not waking up in his own bedroom is one of them. Because he was never so impractical as to choose black silk sheets for his bed. Especially considering the cold, slippery feeling they created against the skin as well as the required high maintenance with every stain and hair being visible. But he knew one person who’s large ego and abilities could warrant such unnecessary luxuries. And it was that knowledge that made him hesitate to turn around. Because it was one thing to suspect. But to know for sure was completely another.

And while Alec was no virgin regardless of the seeming lack of viable partners in his life, he would hate to have his suspicions, which were made an almost certainty by the associated memories, real. Because allowing the High Warlock of Brooklyn to screw his brains out in a moment of weakness and despair was the very last thing he needed. Even if, compared to the nameless and faceless mundanes he chose to bed, the previous night was easily the best night of his life.

Even if his current companion didn’t understand the word ‘gentle’ and seemed to take up the challenge of leaving as many marks on his skin as possible. Otherwise it was difficult to explain why, when he finally crawled out from underneath the ‘dead weight’ and got to the nearest mirror, he found his body to be covered in an uncountable number of bites and bruises. Honestly, he looked like a poor parody on a leopard. Although to give him credit, the warlock did seem to avoid any visible areas, which was a blessing in disguise. Because how he was meant to explain the existence of his newly obtained marks, Alec genuinely had no idea.

But if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, besides the inevitable walk of shame, it was to actually be seen by his bed mate. So finding all his clothes strewn about the loft and silently creeping out was at the very top of his To-Do List.

Although Izzy should cover for him.

_Hopefully…_

Because if the number of times he had hidden her rendezvous with her Seelie didn’t warrant him some leeway, than nothing would.


	69. Drink Away My Sorrows

Chapter 69. Drink Away My Sorrows

“Where _were_ you?!”

Upon hearing that very phrase coming from inside his own bedroom, Alec could definitely say that him going AWOL definitely didn’t go unnoticed. Thankfully, upon hearing that very familiar voice of his younger sister, he could breathe out a silent sigh of relief. After all, it could always be worse. Way worse. Like Clary ‘Fray’ or Maryse Lightwood kind of worse. At least with Izzy he could be almost certain that his sexual exploits won’t go beyond the two of them. But with the other two? The least would be some more wild rumors added to those already going around and the worst would end with him being disowned and thrown out onto the streets.

“Izzy…”

“Where the fuck _were you,_ Alec?! Our brother in all but blood has just died and instead of being here with all of us, you are hanging around fuck knows where!!! He was your _parbati_!” Isabelle had puffy red eyes and tear tracks running down her face. You could immediately tell that she _wasn’t ok_.

“Izzy…”

“Izzy what?! What Izzy?! Don’t think I hadn’t noticed that warlock undressing you with his eyes! Did you dump us to have a frickin’ quickie?!” In that moment Isabelle looked like a vengeful harpy. But her reaction was very understandable.

“…”

“You did, didn’t you?!” She looked ready to start shaking him. “I thought you better than that! That if anyone was to pull off something like this, it would be Clary _fucking_ Morgenstern! But nooo! It’s my very own brother! The frickin’ black sheep! Aren’t you even a little upset?!”

Alec couldn’t really answer anything to that. Because for all that he was sad, he wasn’t _devastated_. Not like Izzy was. And certainly not like the gold-digging redhead that just had her golden ticket to the life of her dreams evaporate literally from within her grasp. Although screwing a warlock was definitely on the dumb side of the specter of his decisions. So instead of explaining anything, he made a beeline straight for his hidden alcohol stash.

***

Twenty minutes later, an entirely different conversation was taking place.

“If I knew you still had that Seelie stuff that has been off market in the last 10 years, I would have raided your room _years_ ago!”

“That’s why you didn’t know about it.”

“Figures…”

After more than half a bottle of some very strong stuff that could only be distantly compared to absinthe, a normal mundane would be long under the table if not in Emergency. But for a Shadowhunter, especially one of a renowned, concentrated bloodline such as the Lightwood, it was only enough to feel slightly tipsy. It was for that very reason that the Fae that wanted to get a Hunter high or drunk usually added something _extra_ to all those colorful cocktails in their clubs and raves. But for all that those things were probably the only thing that could knock a Hunter down, trying them was a ‘at your own risk’ kind of thing. Because you will never know, you might wake up with the girl of your dreams or twenty muscly men. One unfortunate idiot Alec knew _personally_ , managed to wake up with _animals_! The same idiot swore up and down that sex had _definitely_ been on the menu. (Who even admits to that kind of thing?! _Idiot.)_ And that isn’t counting all the strange side effects like growing antlers, tails, sometimes wings. On some of the truly unfortunate, they had to wear concealment runes for the rest of their lives. Because a _literally_ pop-pink Shadowhunter or one that glows in the dark, subtle is _not_.

So while Alec and Izzy wouldn’t risk standing up, they were still movable and coherent. Because it was Seelie stuff. Not mundane. That would have just given them a slight buzz. And while this batch didn’t have the weird side-effects that Seelie alcohol was famous for, it was still a kicker. So it was no wonder that eventually, what begun as a mournful conversation in memory of Jace spiraled into something completely different.

“So Izz…”

“…Mmm???....”

“I know you have a Seelie _friend_ ….”

“Yeah…”

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve ever tasted?”

“Well… there was that one time… we stole this opened bottle… from somewhere… more like _he_ stole… anyways… that was the best night of my _life_!”

“But what was it?”

“Unseelie stuff. Special edition… apparently their Prince has a love/hate relationship with Potions…Apparently,… some stuff is really good… but you never know… Whoever tries it first is _literally_ playing Russian roulette… it might be the best thing you’ve ever tasted or the last drink in your life…”

“And people still go for it?”

“Yeah… there’s a high demand, really. Many can’t agree if trying it is a reward or punishment. That’s why testing it on disposable minions is considered an unavoidable waste. Those that survive are killed anyway...”

“Harsh…”

“But worth it.”

“You are serious?”

“As a doorknob.”

“Maybe if I am lucky, I might try some… before I die on some shitty mission… hopefully…”

“Well… with your relationship with Magnus Bane, you might actually get the chance. That guy has a lot of connections. Who knows, he might wanna spoil you.”

“Doubtful.”

“Yeah…”

“Izzy! You are supposed to be on my side here!”

“…Oh. It’s not that… it’s about the Unseelie Prince and Bane. According to the Shadow world rumor mill, they have history. And the relationship is _complicated_. It might be that the High Warlock of Brooklyn is _blacklisted_ … But then again, great alcohol wouldn’t be the only thing he is banned from… But I will have to check to know for sure!...”

“So what you are saying is, that the only good thing about screwing Magnus Bane is the sex? I won’t even get a good drink?”

“Don’t be so upset! You might be entitled to the stuff in his Club. Although it is cheap Seelie shit… But then again, it’s _free_?... Maybe?... For _you_?...”

“Just figures… my life sucks… even my lover is a materialistic opportunist…”

So that was the entirety of the conversation before both Hunters were under the table. Crying about only being entitled to ‘cheap Seelie shit’. Completely forgetting just _how much_ that ‘cheap shit’ costs.


End file.
